


The Lady of Ren

by MissAdlock



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Angry Kylo Ren, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Fluff, Force-Sensitive Reader, I basically killed off ben solo sorry, I'm Fucking Tired, Implied Sexual Content, Kylo Ren is a father, Lemon, Miscarriage, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, Pregnant!Reader, Reader-Insert, Resistance, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, The Last Jedi - Freeform, Unreliable Narrator, a resistance spy, father kylo ren, father!Kylo, i meant GAYS and gals my bad, i need therapy just for this fic, kylo ren is not a virgin, mention of miscarriage, romantic sex, snoke can go fuck himself and i'm glad he's dead :-)))), there's two sides to every story guys and gals, tlj - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 46
Words: 55,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8078278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAdlock/pseuds/MissAdlock
Summary: You're a powerful political figure for the planet of Baleine and a strong ally of the First Order. Your relationship with Kylo Ren has formed into a martial alliance out of mutual respect and the demand of Supreme Leader Snoke. Your affiliation with the Grey side has Kylo Ren intrigued and the two of you become the most powerful leaders in the galaxy. But you have your secrets and he has his. For instance, he can never know about your mother or the Force ghost you meet with every evening. And Snoke? Snoke is sensing the light and dark fighting within you. He will do anything to keep you with the Sith. Anything.





	1. Preface

**Kylo Ren doesn’t bullshit his way through anything.** Everything he does is carefully planned. He stands a certain way. He talks a certain way. He puts on his armor a certain way (he must put on his belt before he shrugs on his boots and, if he doesn’t, he’s in a sour mood for the rest of the day).

     As his consort (companion? lover? wife?) it was your job to keep him in line. Snoke had made this entirely clear: “ _Your union with Ren is based on politics but you have abilities - as all women do. Keep him in check. Keep him balanced. You are his fuel_.”

     It was a lot of pressure. The man was as wild as a Reek. There was no way you could possibly tame him. If his mother couldn’t do it, you couldn’t do it, right?

     But of course, like all men, Kylo Ren is weakened by particular things.

     One of them is sleep.

     You had made sure that he was not to be woken up until his eighth hour of rest. The two of you had seen a physician very recently and the doctor agreed with your input; Kylo simply needed more sleep.

     It was a challenge to get Kylo to see a doctor in the first place. He claimed he was much too busy to be interrupted by such an unnecessary thing.  But fortunately Snoke took your side and Kylo Ren was to see a doctor. But the two of you visited separately on your terms. Your relationship with Kylo was diplomatic, not personal. You didn’t feel intimate enough for him to be there.

     You had been awake for a few minutes, now. Kylo stirred beside you. He was always very careful not to touch you in his sleep. You noticed that whenever you changed into your bed garments he looked away with a sharp look in his eyes. He was no man of intimacy.

    Originally the idea hadn’t bothered you. You knew the marriage would be based purely on mutual respect and nothing else. If there were to be sex it’d only be for creating offspring. You were fine with it.

    That was until you saw him sleep.

    It’s funny, really. He looks so pure as he snores lightly through his mouth, his structured nose wiggling as he does. His freckles are soft, dotting constellations on his cheeks, his broad shoulders, and his forearms. His raven locks fall across his eyes, blowing slightly whenever he breaths too heavily. It kills you.

   This time every day you watch him. No one can see the way you gaze at him or how you barely lift your fingers to touch him, only to decide against it. You have him to yourself for a couple minutes every day. You fantasize about what your child will look like and hope that he or she has his freckles and mouth.

    It was in this part of the day when you really hated yourself.

    Your thoughts are interrupted by a soft moan. The noise startles you. Kylo is waking up, his large hands reaching for his face.

    His robotic arm slips over the silk sheets, its metal glinting in the light.

    That’s when you hike yourself out of the bed and pull on your dressing robe. You usually don’t greet him in the morning until you deduce what mood he’s in.

    The pile of sheets moan again, the bones he has left cracking.

    “Good morning,” you risk. You fluff your head of (length) hair from underneath the robe and turn your neck towards him.

    Kylo is sitting up. The muscles in his back weave themselves around his shoulder blades. Pink scars sprinkle against the taught skin. He turns only to slightly acknowledge your presence with a grumble.

    Ah. Not exactly a bad mood. You’ve seen worse; he’s woken up throwing things.

    On your way to the refresher you grab your datapad that lies on an end table. You scroll through it, deleting files you’ve received during your sleep that you don’t need. A brand new message from Hux blinks, bright red.

    _Kylo Ren is needed on the bridge._ The message is from one hour ago. You sigh.  
  
    “Kylo,” you say, setting the pad on the refresher counter.

    He doesn’t answer you.

    “Kylo,” you say again, more sternly this time.

    You watch him stand up from the mattress. The sheet slips off and you blush, turning away from his bare chest. Kylo doesn’t sleep entirely nude, but his sleeping shirtless has been recently adopted. You’re not quite used to it. You clear your throat and walk into the main room.

    “Hux needs you,” you say, handing him the datapad. “It was delivered an hour ago.”

    Kylo rolls his dark eyes. “Of course he needs me.” He starts for his clothes.

    It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? His tall stance, his broad frame, his intense features…but one of the things you were ashamed of finding, well, handsome was the scar that traveled from his right cheek to the center of his forehead.

    You supposed you liked it because it symbolized something you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was power. Maybe it was strength. But whatever it was, it was making you too weak in the knees. You turn for the refresher again.

    “(Y/N),” Kylo suddenly calls.

    You freeze, your back turned from him. “Kylo?”

    You hear the rustling of his belt. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, so you continue to tend to your bath, drawing the hot water from the faucet. The mirrors fog and the room begins to grow muggy.

    Right before you slip off your robe and dip your toe in the tub of water, Kylo says your name again. He stands right behind you, clad in uniform with the exception of his helmet.

    “Gods, you scared me.” You placed your palm to your chest. “What is it?”

    He shifts his weight. “When will you be finished today?”

    He sounds as though he’s concentrating very hard to say the right thing. You notice his eyes wandering along your form. You gulp, blushing vividly.

    “Finished with what?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the tub.

    “Your duties. When will you be done?”

    “The same time you will be, I imagine.” You sigh, looking about the room. “I have a meeting with a few ambassadors today.”

    He knits his eyebrows together. “Who?”

    “Tyth and Fan,” you pause. “From Baleine.”

    Kylo nods and then straightens his back, his shoulders cracking as he does. His hand naturally grabs his rotater cuff and he winces in pain.

    You respond instinctively by touching his arm. “When did that happen?”

    Kylo stares at your hand on his forearm like it’s a disease. You swallow hard and tear yourself away from him.

    “It’s nothing. Just a minor injury.” He takes a few paces backwards. “Let me know when you’re done for the day. I need to speak to you about something.”

    “Anything I should be concerned about?”

    He shakes his head and you can tell he means it. “No. But it’s important.”

    You tilt your head in submission. “I will.”

    Your partner (lover? husband?) turns on his heels for the door. But before he vanishes completely you whisper, “Kylo?”

    You didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did; so soft and tender. But it does. And he looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost.

    “What?” he sounds bored, but his eyes are confused.

    You tear your gaze away from him, swimming a finger lazily in the bath water. “Be careful today,” you mumble.

    Whatever you may consider him to be (whether that be your husband? lover? friend? companion? or commander?) Kylo Ren’s pair of chocolate colored eyes soften, his reply a simple silence.

    He leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! // AstraPadme


	2. Synth Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Political endeavors, Kylo Ren’s ancestry, and waltzing around the idea of mandatory intercourse. Kylo is a bit intense and you’re into it.

    Your relationship with the ambassadors from Baleine had first been established when you served as senator for your home planet. Tyth and Fan were two older gentlemen. Tyth, a man held in great esteem by the people of Baleine with a notorious reputation, and Fan, who was just starting out his new position after being a minister for the planet of Naboo.

    These were great men…wise men. You were afraid to disappoint them.

    Baleine had been transferring credits to a planet on the outer rim called Yabbai. Yabbai has no government nor any laws; it’s very similar to a planet called Tatooine. Vile gangsters with no respect for order ruled the entirety of Yabbai.

    Baleine’s reason for giving these gangsters credits was essentially for fear they would attack. Though the planet was nearly bankrupt, the reality of the situation was that those who ran the planet were dangerous. The government of Baleine feared for the life of their current queen, a woman named Sabyr, who has been receiving numerous death threats from these so-called ‘politicians’ of Yabbai. There’s a rather large price on the queen’s head and bounty hunters are Yabbai’s soldiers.

   Tyth and Fan are both very concerned. Their foreheads crease with stress each time they mention their queen’s name as they sit in the center of your workroom, teeth practically chattering at the idea their queen may be dead whenever they return home.

   “The First Order has no friendship with Yabbai, I can assure you that,” you say to them, your fingers tapping against the glass of your desk. You see Tyth's features contort into a scowl.

   “The planet disgusts me,” he says. “They have absolutely nothing to offer the entire galaxy. If it were up to me, I’d destroy it.”

    You purse your lips, your eyes lowering. “That would be an act of war, ambassador.”

    Tyth shrugs. “If it works.”

    “I hope you realize that I am unable to give you any conclusive answer for your problems. I must go over it with the commander first.” You shift in your seat, your stomach dropping at the mention of him. “I pass on the information. It’s a delicate situation.”

    “Of course,” Fan nods. “We understand. We just need answers. Help of any kind.”

    You pause, your eyes glazing on Tyth who is seething with rage. “The First Order is capable of anything, but we usually require a reason to completely obliterate a planet.” There’s a pause. “Yabbai would be better off as dust, but other allies might not agree.”

    The two ambassadors remain silent. They seem hopeless and you feel a twinge of guilt for it. Your job as ambassador is never easy and your relationship with these two men go back to your younger years.

    You look at Tyth again. He’s still brooding, his eyes darting to the floor. You can sense anger in him; it swells deep in his chest like a detonator. And like all detonators, an explosion follows. It was no surprise when Tyth stood from his chair and pointed a finger in your face.

    “Your union has ruined you. Your head is clouded with illusions!” His voice grows louder and you watch him, your expression cold. If Kylo Ren couldn’t frighten you this man couldn’t make you flinch in the slightest. You remain un-phased by his rising voice and his muttering. Fan flinches beside him.

    “Do you expect me to make these decisions by myself?” You stand, leaning against the desk and protruding into his space. “I cannot speak for Snoke, nor can I speak for my husband.”

     At the mention of this title - _husband_ \- Tyth chuckles under his breath. “Husband indeed,” he snarks.

     Your fists clench at your sides and you have to do everything in your power to control yourself. You look towards Fan and he continues flinching each time Tyth says anything at all.

     “I suggest, Ambassador Tyth,” you begin very slowly, enunciating each word through gritted teeth. “-that you leave my presence immediately. Otherwise, you might be greeted by an infamous mask.” These last words are almost spit.

     But right as Tyth begins to turn on his heels for the doors, a figure clad in black enters the room. The walk is unkind, his swagger repressive.

     “Too late,” the modulator says. “I’ve already heard.”

     Tyth is then gripped by an invisible pair of hands, his neck tightening by some unknown force. He chokes, his air supply dissipated. Kylo Ren slams him into the far wall and you jump at the sounds; bones cracking and breathless pleads from the elder ambassador.

     “You’re impolitic.” Kylo leans into his victim’s bluing face. “You have no other allies. It would be unwise to cross me.”

     The steel of the modulated voice chills the air. Fan has leapt from his seat and crossed the room to huddle in a corner.

     Tyth is released, his body sliding down the wall with a squeak.

     “Leave,” Kylo demands to the both of them. He turns to Fan. “And don’t come back until we ask for you.”

     Fan nods and rushes over to Tyth, careful of being in Ren’s way. The two ambassadors exit the room, Tyth leaning his entire body against Fan’s. You can hear Tyth actually begin to cry, his nose sniffling each time he gasps for extraordinary breath.

    The blast doors slam. You’re left alone with a fuming Kylo as he paces about the room, hands itching for the saber at his hip.

    “Don’t,” you say to him, watching as his fingers twitch.

     Kylo snaps his head in your direction. There is no emotion against the glass pane of his helmet. You feel as though you’re looking at a window that overlooks nothing. He walks towards you, each step wide and forcible.

     He stands directly in front of you, his possessive frame hovering over your small stature. “Your friends have no concept of professionalism.”

     You don’t move, rather enjoying the slight distance between yourself and his chest. Your chin is tilted up at him. “How did you hear us?” you ask him, eyebrows furrowing.

     Kylo is silent. You wish you could see through that damn mask. You need to know the look on his face. You crave it like a substance your body is lacking. If you could touch him in any way at all you would die happy.

    Tyth’s voice rings through your head, his words bouncing off your skull. “ _Husband indeed_ ,” he had said with a snort.

    “I was listening,” he says and even his modulator gives way to the softness of his tone.

    You don’t ask why. You don’t need to know. You just nod and sit on the nearest chair, crossing your legs. You place your hands in your lap. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

    Kylo starts for the windows that overlook the blackness of space. “That’s a private matter…for our room.” He places his hands behind his back.

    You stand, wiping your hands on your robe. “Alright then, let’s go.”

    The commander turns to face you. “What?”

    “I don’t want to sit here anymore. I want to walk.”

 

++++

 

    Once the two of you enter the room you turn to Kylo with a pair of arduous eyes. “Take it off,” you say.

    In your private quarters you refuse to speak to Kylo if he has on his helmet. You knew that romantic attachment was too much to ask for but respect was crucial and hiding behind a mask was not your idea of it.

   The helmet is off and Kylo’s handsome face is exposed, his forehead damp with sweat. He places the helmet on the end table next to the bed.

   “Thank you.” You sit on the couch in the center of the room and play with your hands. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

   Kylo saunters slowly over to you but doesn’t sit. He stands, his arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t say anything for minutes, his interest in the empty space above your head. He daydreams and you refuse to interrupt, patiently waiting for him to expose his intentions.

   Finally, he comes out with it. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He just looks at you in the eyes and says, “I think we should consider consummating our union.”

   You somehow manage to keep a straight face, though your insides are liquefying at these words. You turn away from his gaze, too embarrassed. “What makes you think that?”

   “I need an apprentice.”

   “Which means….?”

   “I need a son,” he says casually, as though he’s not asking you to carry his child. He walks over to the window, his back turned to you.

   “You won’t be able to train him for years…” you begin, but he cuts you off.

   “He’ll begin the moment he’s able to walk.” Kylo stops for a moment and then takes off his glove, revealing the artificial hand. The fingers twitch mechanically, the wires in his wrist twisting. “I need to carry on my grandfather’s legacy. _"_

~~~~  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what will happen next?! 
> 
> Don't forget to follow my Tumblr for updates // AstraPadme


	3. Let Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Smut (but not graphic/dirty), inappropriate use of the Force.

“You’re trembling.”

    The news has rendered you speechless. Kylo Ren needed an offspring - a child. You were to carry that child into, what? A pathological excuse for power? Of course you were trembling.

    You lie. “You’re frightening."

    Kylo tilts his head, watching you like a predator. The look in his eyes suggests he was interested in the idea - the idea of completely taking you over. The thought makes your stomach flip and you attempt to swallow your fear.

    “No,” he says to you. He glides closer, the space between you closing. Soon he is directly in front of you, your bodies barely touching. He lifts a hand to your chin and cranes your neck to look him in the eyes. “There’s something else.”

    He knew. Of course he did. It didn’t take a Force user to know that you found yourself salivating over the mention of his name. The moment you saw him walking across the halls of the Finalizer you had wanted him. All of him. The steel of his heart and the shroud he bore - he was the definition of power and it brought you to your knees.

    You wouldn’t admit it. You had too much pride.

    “There’s nothing else,” you mumble. You try to tear away from his grasp but he holds you firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours.

    A deep vibration rings throughout your skull. You want to grip your temples in distress, but your arms are frozen at your sides. There's a ricochet somewhere throughout your subconscious as though someone is trying to force their way in. No. You wouldn’t let him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.

    So you cast him out. He physically jerks back but keeps his hand on your chin. His expression isn't what you had expected - instead of fury, he looks impressed.

    “You’re strong,” he says, lifting a brow.

    “Of course I am,” you almost whisper, watching his mouth. It's much to your demise, but he's about to break you.

    You aren't opposed to the idea of having his child. It's not that you're afraid of partaking in whatever is about to happen; you're afraid of him knowing he made you _clumsy_. You're always level-headed, but Kylo…

    Then he does something very unexpected. Something you had never imagined this man - _he was a man, wasn’t he_? - would ever do. He leans into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. You shiver underneath him, attempting to steady your breath.

    “Let me in,” he murmurs.

    “Why should I?” you breathe. He's running his nose along your collarbone.

    He lifts his mouth to yours, his lips just inches from your own. “Because you’re _mine_.”

    You blink helplessly, your eyes fluttering like the wings of a moth. He grasps your waist tightly and crashes his lips onto yours.

    It's better than what you had imagined it would be. Kylo’s towering frame shielding you, his arms clenching you tightly against his chest. You feel his heart beating - _humanity_ , it sung. Lust. Desire. It was something different - something more.

    Fingers begin to clasp around one another. Your breath collides, your teeth clash against one another. You begin to tug at his robes, his belt sliding off first and then his shawl, his armor. All of it ends up at a pile on the floor.

    But Kylo isn’t hesitant with you. He completely rips your gown in half - whether it was purposely or not.

    You tear away from his mouth, breathing heavily. “Dammit,” you turn to the shredded fabric on the floor.

    He doesn't care. He just grabs you again, stripping you of your undergarments until you're completely nude. Your hands automatically fly to your breasts, covering up any and all imperfections.

    Kylo’s long hair is in disarray, his breathing erratic. He positions himself on the edge of the mattress, waiting for you. But you stand in the center of the room in complete paralysis.

    “Come,” he says, breathlessly.

    You swallow and begin to walk to him, arms still covering everything you can. You stand in front of him, your (e/c) eyes darting away from his.

    “What is it?” he demands.

    “I…” You don’t know how to tell him that it's suddenly becoming very real to you. You had never….you had never been with a man before. “You’ve done this….”

    You're cut off. “Yes,” he says firmly.

    A nod from you. Of course he had. You don’t know why but it makes you feel _better_. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to be angry? But then again, how can you blame him? If you had the chance you would have too.

   Kylo seizes your wrists and brings you to him. He forces you to uncover yourself and you submit reluctantly. There's a wild glint in his eyes as he inspects you from top to bottom. Your (s/c) hips, the curve of your stomach, the fragility of your neck, and the tautness of your (size) breasts. He grips your thighs and pulls you to him very suddenly, as though he's in desperate want. You shriek in his mouth, but immediately dissolved against him. When his lips find your neck, you moan for the first time.

   You want to envelope yourself in him forever. You know it's too intimate to feel that way but you can’t help it. The way he brings you against him and how he groans lightly in your skin makes your knees buckle.

    He pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. You still have to look up to him, as the difference in your height is nowhere near equal. Your forehead tilts against his and he lifts his hands from your waist to your chest.

    But you want to know him. You grab his hands and inspect them; they're thin but strong, the veins easily visible against his almost-translucent skin. His robotic fingers are cold. You lift your palms to his chest where the freckles could be dotted constellations. Then there was his scar; the one that travels along his face. The one he didn’t ask for. The one she gave him.

    You suddenly become angry. You hate this scavenger for doing that to him. You want her dead. You brush your hands over the wound with a feather-light touch.

    “I hate her,” you say under your breath.

    Kylo looks surprised when you say this. “What?”

    You realize your mistake. It was too much. “Never mind,” you reply hastily. You kiss him so forcibly that his neck cranes backwards, leaving his Adam's apple exposed. You run your fingers along that too, stroking every inch of him as you possibly can.

    He holds you against him as though you'll disappear if he didn’t. Your breathing becomes irregular, small moans escaping your lips as he marks your skin roughly, his mouth bruising your skin without remorse.

    Then it happens. You didn’t expect it, but he sheathes himself in you without warning. You whimper in pain, the width of him too much. Your hands grasp onto his neck, your pelvis adjusting to the new fulfillment. He looks like he's done this thousands of times. He moans, but wasn’t sensitive to the action of it all; the thrusting, the sweat, and the cursing that he mumbles each time you shivered underneath him

    He flips you on your back, somehow managing not to disconnect with you. You're starting to grow used to the fullness of it all. The stretch is numbing somehow and you suddenly want more.

    “More, please.” You scratch at his shoulder blades, eyes squeezing shut.

    You want all of him and he knows it. You're beginning to feel more pleasure instead of pain. Kylo must have taken this into consideration because suddenly the sensation becomes more intense, as a tickle arises against your sex.

    His hands clench your hips as he rocks into you, so where was this coming from? It's enough to send you over the edge. Suddenly, your mouth begins to water. You've never experienced an orgasm before but you know it was coming soon. Very soon.

    Kylo isn’t soft. In fact, he's rather rough. Your cervix would manage to bruise; you were convinced of this. He rocks into you deeper, faster, and soon you're moaning his name over and over again, the sweetness of it dripping off your tongue.

    It comes out in waves, your gasping getting louder until it finally it hits you like an anvil. You clench around him and arch into his hands.

    “Oh gods,” you sob. You whimper and shrink beneath him.

    But he has to finish. That's the whole point of this, right? You're sensitive, the intensity of him becoming too much. But before you shriek in pain, you feel him release within you and he curses in garbled basic, his hips slapping against yours.

    Finally, he rolls off of you. He doesn't even look at you. He just leaves you on the mattress alone as you ooze with life. You touch the slimy sensation between your legs and sigh, letting your head fall against the pillow.

    He didn’t sleep with you that night.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah.
> 
> This was my first time writing smut! I hope you guys approve. I'm curious to see what happens next. 
> 
> Again, here's my Tumblr // AstraPadme


	4. The New Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke asks you something and you're, surprisingly, sure of the answer.

Throughout your training, you had been exposed to many obstacles that have hindered your path to easy mediation.

So it wasn’t a surprise when violent images of murder and blood sputtered through your mind like ravenous cannon fire.

You saw your father with a pierced chest by the hands of a ghost from long ago. You heard the distorted screams in the midst of a chaos you cannot remember. Then there was you, long ago, in that marbled temple; your council by your side, your chin held high. You were in an esteemed position. There was peace and order.

The images started to blur and scatter, leaving you alone in the wilderness with tattered skirt and lungs that burned. A voice called your name gently in the breeze.

“ _Balance_ …” it had murmured. And you fell to your knees.

“Ambassador Ren.”

The world was suddenly so bright. Reality had dawned upon you with open eyes. You gasped, your breath freeing itself from deep meditation. C-50 stood before you with his robotic arms limp at his sides. He glinted in the sunlight.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Ambassador Ren. But the Supreme Leader is demanding your presence.” Your faithful protocol droid shifted uncomfortably in his stance.

You nodded, your legs untangling from a very complex pretzel. “Yes, of course. Thank you, C-50.”

“You’re very welcome, Ambassador.” The droid bowed graciously and then began for his long journey back to base.

You embraced the sunlight for just a few moments more. You weren’t sure when you would see it again, as the First Order moved from planet to planet like they do with Sith lords. Ice planets, they seemed to favor. It was a surprise, to say the least, when they chose a warm planet filled with ferns and fields of exotic flowers you didn’t know the names of.

For the base to be temporarily placed on a warm planet had other advantages as well, such as types of dress. You were finally able to wear your precious flowing skirts in lieu of the severe uniform you usually bore on the Finalizer. Scratchy fabric and dark colors, they were your favorites of course, but you sometimes crave the ability to move swiftly about a room.

Because it was virtually impossible for you to concentrate on the temporary base (what, with all that scurrying about) you had traveled to a nearby field approximately three miles away from any sign of mechanical life. You enjoyed the walk, traveling at a leisurely speed. You admired the warm wind, the brightly colored vegetation, and the two orange suns that rested in the blue sky.

You admired all of this even while walking back to base. You hoped the beauty of this planet ( ~~whichever one it was; you didn’t know the name~~ ) may have improved your mood – maybe even your nerves. But, alas, your hands still shook the closer you inched towards Snoke’s meeting room.

Stormtroopers of all ranks stopped as you passed. They tilted their heads in respect and continued down to their scheduled workplace. Immediately, the vibrations in the air changed. Instead of vivid greenery, you were forced down steely hallways with florescent, white lights.

It was strange the way a setting can radically change your mood.

Upon your arrival to Snoke’s ~~lair~~ grounds, you were greeted by General Hux.

“Ambassador Ren,” he smirked deviously. “I hope you’ll find Snoke in an honorable mood today.”

Your urge to completely incinerate the general hadn’t subsided in the past two months you’ve been traveling with the Order. You still hated him as much as you did when the two of you first met and he sneered at you with a dark scowl.

You stopped to stare at him. “I hope I do, too.” You turned away, completely exhausted by his general existence. “Good morning, Hux.”

The general muttered a quick reply before you entered the doors.

Snoke’s projection had never failed to frighten you. He was gigantic and intimidating, the scars on his disfigured body gripping the intestines of your stomach. To stand in front of him with clasped hands and stone eyes was difficult, to say the least.

The Supreme Leader leaned forward. “You carry an aura of something I cannot quite place…” His voice resonated throughout the entirety of the base, causing your bones to jump out of your skin.

“Do I?” you asked him, quite cautious.

He was bemused. “You do not know?”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, sir, I do not see myself from the outside.”

Snoke seemed to agree with this. “Yes…Kylo Ren seemed to carry the same burden on his shoulders. Though his reasoning, I sensed, was a bit different from yours.”

The idea of Kylo Ren made your heart leap out of its chest but you managed to keep a straight face. If only you had _really_ known what the Knight of Ren was thinking, maybe you could gain more power. His fierceness was something to behold, it was true, but his inability to cooperate was something else entirely.

Anyway, you had no idea what Snoke was trying to get at.

“Is there anything you wish bring to my attention, sir?” Your stance was still rigid in place, mostly due to the anxiety looming in your chest. And his mention of Kylo and his disenchanted attitude wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Yes. Your relationship with Ren has new developments…” he lingered.

You nodded a bit meekly, embarrassed, and disgusted by his knowledge. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“The prophecy has suggested that the descendant of a lord will be born into a world of the awakened.” Snoke leaned forward in his chair again, his hands gripping the arms of it. “Do you believe that you are bearing this descendant?”

Words faltered. If you said ‘yes’, would that be wrong? And what if you said ‘no’? Was it good or was it bad for the Order? And how did the Sith really play a part in it? You weren’t sure. Not entirely.

You decided to go with your gut. And your gut was sincere. It really was.

“Yes,” you said, your voice much more powerful than you had expected. “I believe I am.”

Snoke seemed to grin, but it was almost impossible to tell with his spoiled mouth.

 

 

++++

 

 

The reflection in the mirror was not yours.

It couldn’t be. Your eyes were never this wild. You had never seen this person in your _entire life_. This person was impulsive, irrational. Is this the embodiment of your soul? The one you thought you were so familiar with?

You inspected the purple galaxies forming on your neck and your shoulders. God, he really _had_ marked ~~his territory~~ you. And standing was an entirely different ballpark. You waddled everywhere you went and your pelvis was so ridiculously tender that you couldn’t even _sit_ without feeling violated.

But your eyes…they were blooming with something you had never seen before.

The two suns in the sky were lowering outside of your window and the sunset it brought blanketed the floor with reds and yellows. The quarters you shared with Kylo were nothing like the room you had on the Finalizer. It wasn’t as sterile. You felt cozy here; it was almost beginning to feel like some kind of home.

After your shower you snuggled into bed, letting the sleep that had been weighing you down finally wash over you like some kind of drug. But as your eyes began to drift, the blast doors opened with a loud boom. Your body responded instinctively to the ~~damn~~ noise, elevating itself into an upright position. You groaned in discomfort, holding your stomach and tailbone as Kylo entered the room.

He was already shedding his clothes and heading for the refresher. There was no ‘hello’. Just his ‘company’ (if you could even call it that). You shrugged yourself deep into your comforter, burying your face into your pillow and trying to block out the intensity that trembled off of him.

Was he ever in a good mood? You decided that he wasn’t.

It was strange, really, that you were suddenly so timid when he was around. You were usually very vocal, very… _severe_ with him. But suddenly you weren’t.

And you felt _really_ stupid for it.

You heard the shower begin and you twiddled your thumbs for five minutes until he was finished. Kylo emerged from the refresher with a head of sopping hair; it looked like there was a black mop on his skull. His pale skin was flushed from the hot water and steam rose from his body; you watched as it dissipated in the air.

He caught you staring at him and you blushed, pushing your face back into the pillows.

“You spoke with Snoke today…” he mused, chin tilted towards the doors.

Ah. A word. Or two.

You barely lifted your head. “I did.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He just continued drying as off as though you weren’t in the room. In completely silence, Kylo began to change into a pair of night trousers. The towel around his waist fell swiftly to the floor and you cleared your throat as a response.

He watched you squarely, nothing in his expression that would otherwise show remorse. He just said, “Don’t be so immature.”

Nevertheless, the sight of him completely nude was no walk in the park.

“I had never seen a naked man before you.” You twisted your hands around one another, biting your lip in embarrassment. “I guess it’s still…foreign.”

Kylo studied you like he never looked at you before – not really. He’s glared and, even _growled_ at you, but he’s never scrutinized you like he was _interested_. He’s always looked for something to say. He’d point out if you were watching him too closely or if you were ‘gazing’ at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. (For the record, you don’t remember ever _gazing_ at him.) 

“You asked me if I had ever had sex before.” The words fell off his tongue like honey.

You were shocked at the bluntness of it. “Yes.”

“I have.”

“I know. You said so.”

Kylo nodded slightly, watching his feet. “Does that make you feel uncomfortable?” He sounded impassive, as though he’d given this speech plenty of times before.

Surprisingly, no. It didn’t. “No, actually,” you responded. “Does that make me a terrible wife?”

At this, Kylo tensed. The muscles in his arms clenched around his bones. His eyes looked firm – but _soft_ , somehow.

“No.” He walked towards the bed. “It makes you practical.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I just wanted apologize for the shitty writing I've been doing lately. I'm usually not this bad, but with my depression, OCD, and other countless health problems, it's been very hard for me to concentrate on walking let alone writing. But I do it because I love telling stories, and I'm a firm believer that story-telling and writing are two completely different things. 
> 
> Bear with me as I recover. This is a short chapter, but I'm making progress :-)


	5. Metanoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: A handmaiden, couture gowns, THE force ghost, fields of Yanni, and Kylo's reaction to something rather...important.

Nyx is a young woman, like you, but she carries the burdensome weight of ancient wisdom. She is, in all truthfulness, an old soul. Like a legend of some kind, Nyx's presence is nothing short of magical. And though her knowledge is something to behold, she's frightfully shy and petite with yellow hair that travels to her shoulders. In her kind, doe eyes is a constant reminder that there is still humanity upon this Starkiller ~~sequel~~ base.

 

She's also an excellent seamstress.

 

"Why doesn't he have synth-skin?" she asks you, pins bobbing between two rosy lips. She's tending to your gown. Nyx is a perfectionist and you're not very tall, so your patience wears thin after the first hour.

 

You reflect on her question and decide that you can't answer it. "There is a reason for it, but that's all I can say. I'm not even sure he's aware I know." In the three way mirror you watch your shoulders sway with your slow breathing.

 

After the tragedy on Starkiller base, Kylo Ren amputated his own arm.

 

No one had any idea why he did it. The arm was unharmed besides the regulatory wounds from any saber fight. It could have healed nicely; he wouldn’t have even needed synth skin at all. But the first night in the medbay, Kylo struck his arm. The doctors and medical droids panicked at the sight, afraid that they might be responsible for the death of their commander. Thankfully, the blade cauterized his limb and there was no blood.

 

No one had understood his reason for doing it - except you.

 

Nyx nods but then says, "I assumed there was reason. After all, who cuts off a perfectly good arm?"

 

If Nyx were anyone else, you would have demanded them to leave your quarters and relieve them of their duties - immediately. But Nyx has been with you ever since you served as ambassador back home. Besides, her question was far from allusive.

 

You ignore what she had said and decide to comment on her work.

 

"It's beautiful," you tell her. She smiles in the mirror. "I'm sorry for asking you to do this on such a short notice."

 

Nyx shakes her head. "Now that I'm only a few hallways away I'm more than willing."

 

Oh, gods. You were thankful for that, too. Since the First Order had settled on a permanent resident, Nyx was able to travel from home and stay here with you. One of your requests when your union with Kylo was made was to bring a handmaiden with you. You had become accustomed to being waited on and you needed the help. Back home there were four handmaidens: Mathilde, Zelda, Nyx, and Orx.

 

The three of them were perfectly acceptable - you'd even go as far to say that they were the greatest handmaidens any public official could ever have. But your relationship with Nyx had blossomed into something more than a professional relationship. The two of you became inseparable. So inseparable, actually, that your two months traveling aboard the Finalizer without her had triggered a depression. Suddenly, it felt like an entirely different galaxy. Nyx was your last piece of home and, without her anchor, you felt like a completely different person.

 

Kylo had noticed this and even mentioned her once or twice. When you told him that she wasn't comfortable with the idea of space travel (and who could blame her?) he seemed...scuttled. It was as though he couldn't possibly wrap his head around the idea of such an attachment.

 

When Nyx is finished she stands and wipes her hands on her dress. "I did a great job...if I do say so myself." She allows a proud grin.

 

You nod, twisting in the mirror to show off to an invisible audience. The gown is your typical uniform when you're 'on location' (which is the command center, but you like to refer to it as such). The planet of Yanni is relatively warm. Therefore, in lieu of the structured, asymmetrical clothing you wore on the Finalizer (space is rather cold) you asked for relaxed, silk gowns without shape. You were more lenient with color, much to Kylo and Snoke's demise. They wish you had a darker sense of fashion, especially considering your rank in the First Order. And though you did follow that rule while traveling aboard the Finalizer, you wouldn't be seen on Yanni's base as much. You opted for reds, whites, and greens now.

 

The dress Nyx has constructed is your typical wear on Yanni; a shapeless, ivory toned, silk piece with a cape on its shoulders. Besides, you had been feeling rather ballooned lately. Structured meant waist-binders which meant sucking in - and that was something you definitely weren't capable of doing right now.

 

You stare at your stomach, your eyes melting into your reflection so thoroughly that the world around you blurs. Against the ivory fabric is a normal looking belly - there's nothing out of the ordinary. It curves the same way and is just as soft as it was three months before.

 

But you knew.

 

Nyx watches you cautiously and places her head on your shoulder. She's taller than you by a land-slide so she has to bend her knees a bit. "Do you know for sure?" she asks. You don't need the context to understand what she means.

 

"No," you admit. You place your hands on your abdomen, trying to sense life or maybe just trying to make sense of it in general. "I've been too afraid."

 

"It's been a month, hasn't it?" she asks.

 

You say, "Yes."

 

"And have the two of you engaged si..."

 

You cut her off, too upset to think about the possibilities of intimacy with him. For the past month the two of you have remained distant - though not _entirely_ absent. He's slept in the same bed as you but hasn't touched you since that night. You wondered at first if you had done anything wrong but then scolded yourself for it ( _of course you didn't do anything wrong_ ). It was a daily mantra to remind yourself that Kylo Ren was simply not an intimate man.

 

"No. We haven't." You lean your head on hers. "I'm scared, Little Bird. Isn't that strange?"

 

The nickname still makes her smile. "Usually, yes," she replies. The two of you smirk at one another through the mirror. "But this is different. Much different."

 

"How do I know if I'm doing the right thing?" you whisper.

 

Nyx brushes your hair from your face. "The Force radiates from you, milady." Nyx takes your hand and kisses it lightly. "You must trust in its guidance."

 

 

 +++++

 

 

All is quiet here.

 

In the breeze you feel a presence that is needed. You sigh all poisonous breath out and inhale the atmosphere of Yanni back into your lungs. A gentle tapping flicks your shoulder before you see his vision before you. A bearded man with kind eyes appears, his ghost flickering lightly. He is dressed in a particular garb - the kind of garb that grabs one's attention. He folds his arms across his chest before speaking, his temperament always patient.

 

"What will you do now?" he asks you. He sits on a rock amidst the field - the one you had been visiting for the past three weeks. No one but Kylo and C-50 knew where it was so you felt at peace knowing your whereabouts were virtually anonymous.

 

"I'm not sure," you tell him truthfully. "What should I do?"

 

The man sighs and his shoulders glitch when he does. "The Supreme Leader is oblivious to your training with me. He believes your use of the Force is weak and with instinct..." There's a dramatic pause and the ghost purses his lips in thought. "Don't reveal to him your power. He must not know of it. Otherwise, he'll try to lure the darkness within you to its full capacity." As he continues, you tense under his uncomfortable gaze. "Remember that we believe in balance between the light and the dark. If you were to favor one over the other, you would become one half of a whole."

 

You nod. "I understand, master."

 

"Now as for the child..." The wise man sighs and shakes his head softly. "I cannot foresee its destiny. But it's important that you meditate on its health and spirit."

 

It was all very overpowering and the pressure of the situation was immense. But you agree wholeheartedly, even becoming a bit enthusiastic by the idea. You rub your belly in contentment, feeling the benevolence of its companionship swell within you.

 

"Of course, master. Thank you."

 

And just like that, the man disappears in the wind with a compassionate smile.

 

The idea that you were not alone rattles in your skull. Life forms in your womb now; you are _never_ _truly_ _alone_. Your eyes begin to shut, the natural instinct of meditation falling upon you like a visceral nature. The palm against your belly rests easily, moving with your unperturbed breath.

 

At first you sense nothing and it feels like a sham. You just sense the warmth of Yanni's wind and smell the sweetness of pollen. But soon you notice the softening of your soul and then...

 

_Tha-thump._

 

You gasp, eyes opening so quickly you become dizzy. The hand on your stomach freezes.

_Tha-thump._

 

A heartbeat? Was that possible? Could you even hear a heart-beat at one month? It was terrible to admit but you really don’t know much about pregnancy...or biology in general. Politics were always the number one priority in your life – nothing else mattered.

But now now you’re pregnant _and_ clueless. It scares the hell out of you.

The heartbeat stops immediately after you escape your trance. You’re left with nothing else besides the terrain of Yanni and what it had to offer. Now it was only the birds singing in the distance that tickled your ears.

There’s a rustling behind you then, but you sense the aura of a man you haven’t been very acquainted with in the past month. His presence brings you security, yet somehow alarms you as well. You didn’t have to turn around to know.

“What is it?” you ask, inhaling the breeze. You’re still cross legged on the ground, one hand on your belly and the other resting on your knee.

Kylo saunters around to watch you. His expressions tells you that he’s in a pleasant mood and there shouldn’t be any tantrums…for now. He dons his suit and he looks like he's sweating in the dramatic change of climate. For months he'd been residing in the cold - this must be a shock to his system.

“I was looking for you.” He sits on the rock that the master had before, helmet in the crook of his arm before tossing it on the ground. Kylo looks out into the expanding field until it ends over the cliff where a sea of bright, green water twinkles in the sunlight. “We’re taking a trip tomorrow so be prepared.”

You nod slightly, avoiding eye-contact. “Are we?”

“Snoke thinks it’s wise that we visit Mustafar.”

At this you tense.  Mustafar. There’s only one reason Kylo would go there. You open an eye to him. He’s looking down at his gloves, lips pursed and eyes dead. You wondered…but no. Of _course_ he wanted to go. It was the one place he could visit to regain his passion, to end his fight between the light and the dark. If anything could fix his internal conflict once and for all it’d be a visit to Mustafar.

“For how long?” you ask, both eyes closing again.

You hear Kylo sigh in the stillness between you. “Maybe a couple of days.”

You nod again, caressing the theoretical bump. You realize that this could result in a nervous habit. This child seemed to bring you _comfort_.

Kylo seems to notice because his breath dispels. There’s the sound of relocating, his boots brushing against the grass. He says your name in a breathy tone.

You look up at him and your eyes feel lax. He seems serious but relieved, all signs of agony suddenly washed from his visage. You nod at him as though to confirm his indications.

“Yes,” you say. You try not to smile, evaluating his reaction before making any sudden display of emotion.

There’s a moment when you think he might ignore it. You expect that, instead of making any attempt to commend the _both_ of you, he’d walk back to base with a grumble in his throat. But, to your astonishment, Kylo holds out a hand as though to help you off the ground. You take it and the leather gloves are warm from the sun.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one eyebrow slightly raised. He holds you at arm’s distance, assessing your expression.

“I’m sure.”

Then Kylo Ren does something _very_ surprising.

Two gloved hands reach out for your belly, pausing before guardedly placing his hand on you. He waits for a moment as though he’ll feel something _you_ couldn’t possibly sense. You only watch him as his eyes soften like ice in the sun.

This is a new man. You can see it.

You reach for his hand on your abdomen and whisper, “Can you feel it?”

Kylo seems to understand what you mean because he lifts his eyes from your belly to you. “ _I can.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This chapter took a couple of days to write. Things have been a bit hectic around here, but I was somewhat satisfied with this chapter. 
> 
> As for Kylo, he'll be making appearances much more than what he has in the past three chapters.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy. Sorry it took so long. Xx


	6. Mustafar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Padmé Amidala , lava, and more lava.

To pay your respects, you wear black to Mustafar.

It is a volcanic planet, void with life, but she still lives here. The moment you arrive you sense her agony. And her sadness…it’s overwhelming. In your head she is screaming: “ _Anakin, you’re breaking my heart_!” The voice echoes. Then an engulfing sense of dread pours upon you when you realize that she is being gripped by the throat.

You stare blankly into the blackness of Mustafar’s terrain.

She was pregnant.

You’ve heard the story before. There were legends, myths…Darth Vader killed his wife, didn’t he? But Kylo never talked about it and you never pushed him. You were sure of this place’s history and the Force imprint it carried. Padmé Amidala still thrives here and she still haunts the planet with her impossible conflict.

Kylo is staring at you through his visor from the pilot’s seat. There were no Stormtroopers aboard. No guards. Nyx does not accompany you. It is just him. He doesn’t say a word but you can see him in the corner of your eye. His breathing is steady but stalls when he gazes out into the volcanic horizon. Destruction. Massacre. Death. They all live here.

“Are you ready?” you ask him, voice unsteady.

Kylo is silent. In the distance there is a river of lava spilling over a cliff. Its movement is booming with noise.

“Yes,” he says. He stands from his seat. “Are you?”

You examine the landing pad beneath you. It was the same spot. The same spot she died. You nod weakly, a gulp twisting in your throat. You take his hand when he reaches out for you and the two of you step off the ship.

The air is immediately hot. Stifling. You grip Kylo’s hand and he looks down at you. You can’t see the expression he carries, but it must be something extraordinary if he chooses to wear his mask. There is no one residing here. No one but you will see his face. So why…

“Why do you have it on?” you ask him.

He releases your hand and overlooks the ashy scene. Massive machinery that you are unfamiliar with stands tall in a sea of lava. Some of it is broken, though most of it is rotting away from the atmosphere. You wonder when the last time someone had been here to recover its state.

Then again…who would ever come back to this place?

Kylo takes a moment before answering. His back is turned to you, his cloak slightly blowing in the wind. He is _menacing_. The lava roars, the obsolete machinery groans in the distance. This scene is familiar somehow.

“My grandfather…he was here once.” Kylo takes a deep breath – you can see his shoulders raise, though just barely. “His mission began here.”

There’s nothing you can say. You know.

He lifts his hands to his helmet. The airlocks hiss and it is removed. He stands before you as a man and not a shrouded figure. His eyes bore into yours. “This is where I need to be.”

You stand next to him on the bridge which overlooks the lake of fire beneath you. The two of you don’t say anything but instead observe the surroundings.

“Why did you bring me here?” The question is unexpected, even for you.

Kylo turns to you, his eyebrows threading in confusion. “Don’t you know?”

There is no reply from you, just a face of puzzlement.

Kylo inhales deeply, letting his hand cup your cheek. “Passion is fuel, as is anger.” He pauses, trying to read your eyes. “That is why you are here.”

Your mouth barely parts to say, “I make you angry?” It comes out as a whisper.

It is rare, but Kylo smirks deviously. “No.” There’s a pause and he does not tear his eyes from yours. “I chose you for a reason.”

For some reason your stomach jerks at this and, really, it’s _not_ the child. You’re speechless at his confession and wonder if you should feel frustrated with this answer. But you feel as though he’s trying to convince you of something he can’t verbally express. You nod at him, shaking in your leather boots.

He takes his hand from your cheek and drops it at his side. You almost sigh in relief, not sure how to react in such a suggestive moment with him.

“The base is old, but there’s rooms here. We’ll sleep there.” He nods towards the building beside the ledge of a cliff. “Don’t leave my side while we’re here.”

“Why not?” you demand instinctively.

“It’s dangerous.”

“There’s no one on this planet,” you retort.

The knight before you watches you sternly - your veins run cold. “It’s _dangerous_ ,” he repeats. “And you’re in no condition to explore.”

“Says who?” Your cross your arms against your chest.

He glances towards your belly. “You’re pregnant. I won’t have you walking over lava and brimstone.”

You roll your eyes. “Kylo, I’m perfectly capable of…”

“Enough,” he mumbles, turning towards the base.

You follow him with a groan. The moment of his intimacy before expires in the asphalt air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry this chapter is so short. This was basically an introduction of their time on Mustafar. But I'll make it up to you in the next one. xx


	7. Eigengrau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Religious disagreements, angst and anger.

"Where are we going?" 

The two of you had been walking in silence for, at least, twenty minutes. Kylo was leading you to a destination you had no knowledge of and it was difficult to not turn back the other way. Sweat began to moisten your skin and your legs ached. Kylo didn't seem to mind the walking, however, because he kept at the same pace. _Damn those long legs_ , you thought. 

Kylo slightly turned his head at you but didn't refrain from walking. "When was the last time you trained?" 

You were taken aback by his question. Odd. He never asked about your training and barely brought up your affiliation with the grey side. Snoke had made it clear that your passion for both the light and the dark was seriously considered before your union. But Kylo...he hardly ever mentioned it. In fact, you couldn't recall the last time he had. 

You let out a sigh, stepping over a lava rock the side of your head. "Physically? It's been awhile." 

"And mentally?" he asks, staring into the horizon. There was nothing but red. 

"I meditate every day." You attempt to remain at his side but he was way too fast. Didn't he know that your ankles were swelling? It was a miracle you were walking at all. 

Kylo didn't hesitate on his next question despite the fragility of the subject. "Who is your master?" 

You stop, your feet firmly planting themselves into the scorching ground. You were off-road at this point. A bit of steam shooting from a miniature geyser fogs your boots. Kylo turns around to inspect you, only to find an expression of concern on your face. 

But you answer cooly, "My teacher is not embodied in human flesh." 

Kylo clenches his fists at his sides and grimaces. He's left his helmet at the ship so you're able to see every outline of disgust threading between his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. "So he's dead," he guesses. 

You grunt, sitting onto a pile of gravel that looks unaffected by the atmosphere. You test it with your hand just to make sure it doesn't burn the skin. When you find its cool enough, you practically collapse onto it. Then you start to rub your ankles. "Did I say 'he'?" you reply. 

"Is it a he?" Kylo asks firmly. 

"Does it matter?" you ask flippantly. You groan in pleasure while massaging your ankles. This pregnancy thing was much harder than you thought. 

"Yes," Kylo replies. "It does." 

"Why?" you ask, irritation clouding your tone. You really did _not_ want to have this discussion - especially after you've been walking for what seems like hours. You pull a stone out of your boot and throw it in a nearby river of molten lava. Your face pinches in vex. 

Kylo raises his chin at you. "Because you are my consort and my wife." 

"So?" 

"You were the one who said respect was necessary." Kylo moves closer to you but the tension in his fists does not subside. You want to roll your eyes but keep steady, knowing that if you triggered his anger, you might regret it. 

"Yes. But it's personal." Another stone in your boot. You throw it to the side. 

Kylo shifts his weight onto his other leg. "Am I not allowed to know you personally?" 

At this you look up at him through your lashes, though your smile is ill-humored. "You are," you begin. "-but you haven't earned that right." 

You've shamed him and he knows it. Your curtness seems to make him despise you, as his dark eyes narrow with exasperation. "Why not?" he asks between clenched teeth. 

You stop rummaging through your boot and fold your hands in your lap. He's now piqued your interest. This is not normal behavior for him - not with you, anyway. Sure, Kylo throws a fit when he doesn't get what he wants. But with you he was level-headed (or as level-headed as he could be). You realized then that this bothered him. This bothered him _greatly_. 

You decide to tell him the truth. That's what he wants, after all. "Because you don't make an effort. And if you do, it's only for your benefit." 

Kylo begins to walk away. "All tell-tale signs of a psychopath," he says over his shoulder. "Is that what you're implying?" 

You groan in aggravation. God, all you wanted to do was _sit_. "Maybe!" you shout to his back. 

Kylo stops abruptly and you slam into him at the sudden pause. You step a few paces backwards and he directs his gaze to your eyes. 

"Why is it that you don't follow the dark side?" he demands. 

You scoff. "I wish you would accept my beliefs." 

Kylo ignores your request. "Why not divulge yourself into something you _almost_ follow?" he leans down and you can feel his sweet breath fan against your lips. "Why do you believe it is so wrong?" 

Ugh, you wanted to slap the _shit_ out of him. You stand on the tips of your feet to raise your eyes to his chin - it's the best you can do. "I never said the dark side was wrong," you say. "Not completely." 

Kylo raises his eyebrows. "Not completely?" he mocks. "And is the light better?" 

You toss your hands to your side. "No, but too much of a good thing can kill you too." 

"I don't understand," he says. 

You shut your eyes and breathe deeply. You feel his anger and it is rushing through you. You must control it. You _must_. "Without the dark, the light would not shine. And without the light, the dark would swallow the night. There is a time and a place for everything." 

The look on Kylo's face makes you think he's offended at such a concept. 

"You believe the two are necessary?" he scoffs. "That we should coexist?" 

You shrug. "Yes."

What was so hard to grasp about this? Did he not understand because he didn't want to? Or because he couldn't believe it? You knew the grey side was a rare path to follow, but Kylo was more intertwined with the Force than anybody you've ever known. How could he _not_ understand? 

"You use both the light and the dark side?" he asks, the tension in his voice slowly beginning to suspend. 

You wipe a bead of sweat dripping from your nose. "I try not to favor one or the other, yes." 

"But do you?" 

"I'd rather not say," you reply quickly, walking towards a bridge within acceptable distance.

Kylo trails along. The heat radiating off of him is literal and figurative. His expression is blank as he stares off into nothingness. You watch him in the corner of your eye, sensing the argument isn't over. Not even close. 

"You're very stubborn," he continues. 

Ah. There it is. 

"I'm careful," you say levelly. _Almost to the bridge_ , you tell yourself. _Then you can sit._

A few moments and a couple of feet later, you arrive at the bridge. It's steady and made of steel, but you feel dizzy walking along it. You wanted solid ground and cool air, for the love of Kriff. 

Inside the dormitory, a wall of cold air hits you and goose-bumps raise along your arms. You sigh in relief and wait for Kylo to direct you towards your room. He does, only after locking the blast doors. 

He points to the curve on the right. "There."

The two of you are silent until finally a dam breaks in you. You don't know what it is. It must be anger. No, maybe it's passion. Maybe it's genuinely foreign. But whatever it is, you scream it aloud. 

"Why must you torture me like this?!" you shout. Your voice echoes and bounces against the structure.

Kylo stops walking and turns sharply on his heels. "What are you talking about?" he asks in the same volume as you. His voice is more booming - more threatening than your high-pitched squealing. 

Your close your eyes in order to stop the tears. You can't look at him. He disgusts you. He makes you feel so much anger and so much of something you can't understand. "Some days you want me and others you don't!" you clench your fists, eyes still shut in agony. "You haven't even touched me since that night on the Finalizer! Why did you choose me?!" You open your eyes and feel the blood pumping rapidly through your veins. "What do I have to offer you other than my genes?!" 

The Force user clenches his jaw and his chest expands with breath. "The first time we met. Don't you remember?" he says this through gritted teeth. 

You sniff back dry tears. "I do." 

"You were directing everyone. You took control." His voice is steady. You realize with horror that he is more _calm_ than you. 

You shrug lightly. "They were my team. Of course I did." 

"And you left them. Bravely." He inches a step towards you.

The air becomes thick and your throat tightens, burning with a desire you don't know. "I did," you reply. 

"Why?" 

"Because I knew my duty," you answer posthaste. 

Kylo raises a brow. "Which was?" His mouth settles into a thin line knowing that, for once, he is in the right. You hate it. 

"To leave my home and serve for the First Order," you choke back a sob. 

"It was your choice, wasn't it? Were you held against your will?" he asks you, stepping another inch towards you. His swagger makes your body flinch and the sound of his boots make you jump on your heels. 

"No," you answer. 

"Because?" Another step forward. 

"Because I wanted to!" you shout back. 

A smirk flickers on his face. You realize what he's done. 

"Exactly," he answers. 

You barely hold yourself up. Your head is dizzy with questions. You knew he was drawing it out from you - the repressive anger. It loomed in your chest like a spider making its web. 

Kylo is walking away when you softly whisper, "How come you hide from me?" 

He turns. "What?" 

"I can't see you. I can't get inside your head..." you push your fingers against your temples. Your expectations fall short when the only thing that transfers from his subconscious is white noise. "Are you my husband? Are you my commander?" 

Kylo clenches his jaw impassively. "You expect too much of me." 

Your eyes water again. "You disgust me," you spit. 

He smirks mischievously. "No I don't." 

You narrow your eyes and brush past him, your shoulder bumping into his chest. "Don't," you say. 

The commander follows close behind, though he makes sure not to catch up. "Don't what?" he challenges. 

"Don't play that game with me. Don't creep into my head! I'm stronger than that." You turn another corner, suddenly not caring where the proper room is - as long it's a place to sit down. 

"I know that," he admits. 

"Mutual respect," you shout over your shoulder. 

"Respect is one thing," Kylo stops walking so you glance back at him. "Secrecy is another." 

You roll your eyes and throw your head back dramatically. "And what do I have to keep secret?!" You haven't stopped walking.

"Why won't you tell me who your master is?!" he yells back. You're halfway down the hall now.

You know he can't take it from you forcibly. It _weakens_ him. He hates knowing he can't control you. Power means control and he currently does not possess it.

You begin to laugh sardonically. It rumbles through your chest. "You're angry that you can't read my mind! That's what this is! That's what all of this is!" you watch him from across the hall and you notice his hand twitching towards his lightsaber. "Do it! Get angry!" you scream. "I can push you like you can with me!" You stomp your way towards him. "Show me what you pretend to be, Kylo!" 

His hand twitches at his saber again. 

In frustration you whine, "Oh, for the love of..." 

Your hand reaches for the blaster that's hooked on your waist. You fire so briskly that even Kylo is taken aback. He stops it, however, in mid-air just before it can penetrate his robotic limb. He starts for you and you let him. His masculine form hovers over you for only a moment before you slap his jaw. He growls at this and snatches your blaster before throwing it across the room. 

"Don't," he snarls. 

"Or _what_?" you challenge. You raise your hand again but he grabs your wrist and squeezes. You grin, satirically. "I dare you. _Do it_." You spit.  

Kylo is fuming. But something in his eyes assures you that he won't. He does, however, slam you to the nearest wall. You gasp at the impact. His face is only centimeters from yours. His breath is crisp and warm and your breathing tangles with his. 

"You think you're so tough?" you ask him sternly. "Huh?" 

Kylo just stares at you and his eyes could melt steel. 

You push against his grip. "Just because you can stop a blaster from firing, huh? That makes you tough?" 

Another growl escapes his lips. 

"Do it," you beckon. "Do it. _Kill me_." 

But instead of striking you, he attacks your mouth with his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eigengrau / "Dark light, or brain gray, is the uniform dark gray background that many people report seeing in the absence of light."


	8. Toska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Pregnancy complications, blood.

You couldn't feel much at first. You were very numb. But you knew Kylo's mouth was tracing along your cheek when you felt it. 

The cramps. 

You tried to ignore it. Pregnancy was fluid and symptoms weren't uniform. Nyx (who also served as your current midwife) told you that cramps were normal and that even slight traces of blood were perfectly fine. But you knew something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong. 

You tore yourself away from Kylo's mouth. He sensed it immediately. He gripped your waist, as you became a bit limp in his arms. Your body slid slightly down the wall, your hands pressing against your belly. You began to mumble incoherent sentences and jumbled words - your breath became rapid and your heart began to flutter. 

No. No. No. 

You reached for him - your husband. You gaped his name but it didn't form. Your eyes tightened and your back began to ache as though someone had just _stoned_ you. You bent over in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. It was a natural reaction to unzip your pants. And when you sat up on your knees you saw it. 

The blood. 

"No, no!" Your throat was burning against your scream. "No!" 

You began to frantically clean yourself, wiping the blood on your pants - if you could get rid of it, you thought, then it was fantasy. This wasn't happening. You continued to dry-heave, yelling the same word over and over again: " _No, no, no_!" 

Kylo didn't even think. He picked you up and threw you into his arms. The blood stained his cloak. His child. Your child. 

"No, please!" you beat against his shoulders. "Kylo, do something! For the love of Kriff!" 

You hadn't even noticed that you were already half-way to the ship. It had been a twenty minute walk, but Kylo was sprinting across the landscape of Mustafar, his rapid breathing mixing with yours. You were sobbing against his chest, blood stained hands clenching his biceps.

He remained silent while taking you up the ship's ramp. 

The ghost of Padme was suddenly very silent. 

<><><><><><>

 

They were whispering as though you couldn't hear them from behind the curtain. 

The word "miscarriage" had been uttered at least five times. And each time it was said, you cringed. The thin fabric separating yourself and the medics did not conceal their shadowy figures. Your eyes traced along the ridges of the ceiling, your teeth clenched. You had been drifting in and out of sleep for hours, convinced that the medication numbed everything but the emptiness of your abdomen.

It had been thirteen hours and Kylo was nowhere to be found.

You had asked for him. Twice. All you needed was reassurance. You were terrified of what might become of this. Not only did you loose your child but would you loose your position as well? Maybe even your life?

Snoke. You could only think of him and the wrath that was bound to follow.

You were just awakening from a light sleep when Nyx arrives. Her friendly face brought you warmth and you reached out to her, eyes watering again. She kissed your hands over and over, resting her forehead against yours.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered repeatedly. "I'm so sorry, milady..."

You brought her to your chest and hugged her tightly. She wept in your shoulder and you sobbed in her hair.

 

<><><><><><>

 

After twenty-four hours, Kylo was still missing. 

Nyx, however, had stayed by your side. She fell asleep on your sore belly, her light snoring bringing you comfort and, if you dared say it, amusement. But you couldn't laugh. You couldn't smile. The light that was left in you was rapidly dissipating in the steely air. 

A sharp and chemical smell had burned your nostrils, so when a medical droid carefully opened your door to bring you breakfast, your brain had to rewire itself. Your eyes widened, sleep threatening to slip your body into a comatose. Nyx jostled awake, startled by the slamming of the blast doors. You patted her arm to bring her comfort, as though to say, "It's okay." 

The medical droid was supposed to be feminine and you knew this because she gently set down your tray in front of you. She scanned your eyes and picked up your wrist in a gentle fashion. She checked your pulse and carefully laid a robotic hand on your stomach. A digital interface full of your medical history and current status popped up in front of you. The hologram showed no sign of life in your belly. 

Your remained expressionless, watching as the heart monitor found no pulse within you. It was only yours and you were suddenly very alone, despite the company you kept. In the corner of your eye you saw Nyx watching you cautiously, as though you were about to burst into tears. But you didn't. You were stone. Ice. Your heart was becoming ash. 

"Ambassador Ren," a voice said. 

The red haired general stood behind the droid, his hands crossed behind his back. His expression told you that he was indifferent to your situation, though genuinely curious as to your general health. He stepped forward, urging the medical droid to leave. She did, rolling away towards the doors and exiting from view. 

"General Hux," you said. The hologram disappeared and you sighed a breath of relief, it's blue hue slowly fading from your face. 

Nyx stood. "Should I leave, milady?" 

You glanced at Hux. He didn't seem comfortable with her in the room and you weren't in the mood, nor health, to argue with him. You nodded at her. "Yes, Nyx. I'll call for you later." 

Nyx bowed, her loyalty never fading, despite your new position as an ambassador. She still considered you part of a monarch. She lowered her head when passing Hux and he watched her leave, just barely craning his neck, and when the blast doors shut, he immediately relaxed. 

"What is it, Hux?" you asked, attempting to lift yourself into sitting position. It worked, miraculously. Your back settled against the terrible fabric of medical pillows and you exhaled gradually, waiting for him to speak. 

The general walked closer to you, but only enough so that you could hear him more clearly. "I have received word from commander Ren. He wants me to inform you that he'll be visiting you tonight." 

You turned your chin away from him, eyes upwards to the ceiling. "Fine," you decided. "On your way out, will you send for a droid?" 

To your surprise, Hux nods softly. "Yes," he answers. "And..." 

You freeze. "Yes?" 

Hux clears his throat and moves his legs - a very uncharacteristic action. "And I'm sorry for your loss." 

You blink once or twice, your lips barely parting. The general has barely said a word to you since your arrival on the Finalizer. His lack of conversation makes you feel no sympathy towards him, and his indifference with Kylo has forced you to prevent any respect as his position of general. 

"Thank you," you force. But you mean it. You really do. It's nice to hear it from him, you supposed. 

The general just nods curtly, his normal behavior naturally intact once again. He leaves without another word. 

 

<><><><><>

 

It was the beginning of the sleep cycle when Kylo entered your room. 

You _were_ sleeping. But when the doors opened, you awoke. You were curious as to what he might do, so you pretended to still be unconscious. You laid on your side, back to him and listened for any sign of decision he may make. Will he leave? Will he stay? Will he sit beside you? Speak to a medic about your recovery?

Kylo drops his helmet. You hear it fall against the floor with a loud clatter but you still refuse to budge. Maybe he knew you were pretending.

You didn't know if you cared. 

To your astonishment, Kylo dragged a chair from the end of the room. He moved it beside your cot and he turned off the lights. 

He slept with you that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toska / "A dull ache of the soul, a sick pinning, a spiritual anguish."


	9. Mizpah

When you wore black it was usually for aesthetic purposes. 

But now you were in mourning, and though Kylo wore black every day, you were able to see the weight being carried on his shoulders. He strides down the hall with a different aura - much less demanding and much more mechanical. His helmet has stayed on in your presence ever since you were carried into the infirmary. 

You don't ask him to take it off. You know. 

It had been a week since you were admitted and you were allowed to "go home" (which really just meant the rest of the base and your bedroom). You would, however, be required for daily check-ups for the next three weeks - the time you were also suspended from working. Three weeks without something to distract you. Working was your life and everyone knew it. Maybe it was a punishment. 

After all, you lost the child. 

You're walking down the hall, shoulders back and a figurative mask on, when general Hux says your name. You turn and find him at the opposite end, his hands motioning for you to come hither. You sigh and roll your eyes, meeting him halfway. 

Your arms snake behind you. "Yes, general?" 

Hux inspects you closely. You clear your throat.

"Snoke requests an audience." 

You raise an eyebrow. "Demands, you mean." 

The redhead nods curlty. "Demands," he repeats. His voice lingers. "Commander Ren will attend you." 

Your gulp, your whole body freezing, though a strange heat settles in your ankles. You nod sharply and walk in the direction of which he came. The general doesn't leave your side, strangely enough, and instead struts along with you. Stormtroopers nod in submission and continue walking. A particular trooper watches you from a distance and whispers to their confidant something you can't hear. 

"Does everyone know?" you ask Hux flatly, eyes strictly forward. 

The general takes a moment to answer. The two of you round a corner. "The majority, yes." 

At least he was honest. 

When you arrive to Snoke's grounds, Hux finally leaves you without another word. Odd, but apparently his presence was necessary. Did Kylo think you'd run away? 

Whatever the reason, you enter the doors, eager to make it look like you aren't afraid. But you are. When you see Snoke's hologram towering above the ground, your skin trembles. 

Snoke says your name in a sonorous voice. "You're late," he sneers. 

Kylo is waiting for you, his mask showing no indication of his feelings. Your arrival probably infuriates him but you can't decide yet. You stand tall beside him, hands clasped together. 

"I was just informed," you tell him, voice stronger than you imagined. 

Snoke looks down at you as though you're minuscule and, quite literally, you really are. He grimaces and settles back into his chair. "The child..." 

"Is dead," you hiss. A brave reply. 

Snoke's face falls, but not in disappointment. You've angered him. "Yes..." he muses. "You've lost the child." 

You inhale deeply, shame clouding your expression. Kylo looks at you - you see him in the corner of your eye. "I did," you decide. And it's true. You really did. 

But you wouldn't let Kylo believe that you're weak. No. You're firm and steadfast. His reaction, no matter what it may be, will not tear you apart. 

Snoke is silent for the next two minutes until he finally says to the both of you, "Leave." 

You look at your partner and he nods in compliance. The two of you dare say nothing more and instead leave his grounds, yourself feeling more empty than before your arrival. But before you head towards your quarters (after all, you've been misbehaving your doctor's orders - you shouldn't even be out of bed) Kylo says your name, forcing you to face him with a sense of omission. 

"What?" you ask, eyes to the ground. You couldn't look at him. 

You hear his boots step closer. When he's within whispering distance, he quietly tells you, "Go to our quarters. I'll be there in a moment." 

You crinkle your eyebrows in confusion but surrender to his instructions. You curse at yourself while walking back; you've turned soft. Once upon a time you'd have demanded that he didn't speak to you that way. But now it was no use. You were tired of fighting.

You just wanted to sleep. 

 

<><><><><>

 

A "moment" turned into hours. 

You hadn't expected anything less. He was busy, or he was stalling, and the thought of it drove you mad. You had been gargling down a bottle of alcohol (that you didn't know the name of). You just knew that it filled a void...and that it was a twelve percent volume. 

While pressing the neck of the bottle to your lips, you stare into the horizon. Your quarters with Kylo has a breathtaking view. At night, when both suns set, you could see the twinkling of 'beam bugs' - a native insect that shone a light everywhere it flew. You count them in your head; every five seconds a beam of light soars above the ground. 

 _One, two, three, four_...you count. 

At least, you think you do. You really can't remember your own name, let alone attempt mathematics. You smirk lazily at yourself when you see your reflection in the mirror. _There she is again_ , you think, _that damned failure_. You hit the window with the palm of your hand and chuckle sardonically when nothing came of it. Of course. 

You were almost finished with the bottle but knew for a fact that C-50 couldn't deny you any more. You press a button on the blast doors' interface. 

"C-50?" you slur. "Get me another bottle of..." you check the label, widening your eyes to make sense of it. "-whatever this is." 

The unsure tone of your droid filters through the speaker. "Yes, ambassador." 

You release the button with the flick of your index finger and collapse onto the floor in a fit of giggles. You had no idea what was so humorous but you knew that the couch in the corner looked strikingly like a squat Tauntaun. Aiming for it, you throw the bottle and expect it to land on the cushions, but it shatters into pieces when met with the floor. 

"Whoops!" you shout. More giggling. 

You were inspecting the damage before you (laughing the whole time) when you suddenly fell backwards. You yelp, your head almost smacking against the floor. The hallway of the base was empty, except for the footsteps of stormtroopers echoing in the distance. 

It was when something nudged your head that you found Kylo shrugging you with his boot. 

You smile stupidly at him. "Hi." 

He isn't amused. He reaches for your hand but you swat away his arms. "No, no. I'm going to stay here..." 

Kylo sighs dramatically. "Get up." 

You pout, your lips jutting out like a child's. "Don't tell me what to do..." you slur. "I'm your wife!" You hiccup. 

The force user is not pleased but he's not about to give up. After more debating, he found he would get nowhere asking you. So he grabs a hold of your leg and drags you into the quarters. The blast doors immediately shut. 

You protest against his grip. "Get off of me!" you shriek. 

Kylo lets go of your ankle once in the center of the quarters. He still has his uniform or...

"Costume," you mumble softly, eyes spinning with the room. You began to snort with laughter. 

The commander fiddles with his helmet before it falls to the floor with a loud boom. At this, you heartily giggle some more. It's definitely a costume. 

"I had no idea you drank," Kylo grumbles, shedding his cloak. 

You tilt your head to see him properly. Then you lay on your side, eyes goggling when he lifts up his under armor. He begins to address your current state of inebriation but you aren't paying attention. Instead, you watch the way his arms tense underneath his skin and the subtle, though noticeable, muscles. You try to get up, and after three attempts, you're able to stand firmly on both feet. 

"You really should get some sleep." Kylo is now stripping off his trousers. When he sits on the bed (as your quarters resembles a studio), he begins to fidget with his zipper. 

But he's interrupted when you climb into his lap, legs straddling each side of his waist. He stops undressing. 

You run your finger across his bare chest. "You're pretty," you say, a smile growing on your lips. 

"You're drunk," he tells you. He's completely serious. In no way does he say this playfully. In fact, his eyes are dour. You continue to run your hands against his body before cupping your hand against his cheek.

"Kylo?" you ask, the slur still camouflaging your voice. 

He continues to pull of his trousers, despite your current position. You lift your hips when he slides them to his ankles. He's left completely nude, your figure exposed to him. 

"What?" he asks. He's tired. 

But, damn, you aren't. And as much as he wants to pretend that he's apathetic to your current posture, he stands at full attention. You smirk at this, your sense of pride slowly regaining control. You lean in to press your face against his chest. 

"You were going to..." you hiccup again. "You were going to have sex with me at Mustafar, weren't you?" 

He doesn't say anything. You snake your hands around his neck.

"Kylo?" 

He groans in exasperation. "What?" 

You tilt your chin upwards so you can look into his eyes. They're on fire, burning with lust. But something is holding him back. 

"Weren't you?" you ask again. Your head is getting more fuzzy and the room is still spinning. 

Kylo attempts to untangle you from him. He says your name tiredly as if he's pleading with you. 

You brush away his raven locks from his eyes and hug him against you tightly. "Don't let go of me," you beg. 

Kylo stills beneath you. "What?" 

"Don't let go of me, I said." You embrace him tightly, pressing your cheek against his scarred shoulder. "Don't let go..."

You fall asleep in his grasp, suddenly unafraid of the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mizpah / "The deep and emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death." 
> 
> <><><><>
> 
> Hey guys! I wanted to give you a little update! 
> 
> I'm baaaaack! I've been very drained. I just started my title of 'editor-in-chief' for Odyssey Online so I've been VERY busy with writing articles and editing them as well. It gets a bit overwhelming. 
> 
> The last chapter was very upsetting, I know. But it serves a purpose. Kylo's character development will be very interesting to write but I try to keep him in character as much as possible. It bugs me when people make him out to be a sappy, romantic. I don't truly believe he ever will be. He is too scarred. 
> 
> However, I do believe that he has a lot of his father in him. 
> 
> We'll see. ;-) 
> 
> #prayforcarrie


	10. BB-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Domestic bliss.

Eyes flutter. You catch a glimpse of your ratted hair against the pillows. The sunlight hurt. _Really_ hurt.

Your head spun with the aftermath of alcohol. _You'd never drink again_ , you vowed. You could still smell it on your breath. Whatever it was, it was strong...much too strong for your taste. What had you been thinking? Didn't you know any better? You sat up and immediately regretted it; the sourness in your stomach twisted your gut.

"Never drinking again," you repeat in a whisper. You place your hands against your face, feeling the warmth of your cheeks. Then you hear it. 

A mechanical shriek. Your body clenches and you immediately grab your blaster on the bedside table, pointing it at it in the emptiness of the room. The light shining through the windows doesn't show any sort of life. This piques your curiosity and your fingers clench the blaster's handle more tightly. Your eyes narrow when...

" _WAAAAAAAAHHH_!" 

A matte, black droid (shaped like a perfect sphere) slams itself against the far wall of your quarters. It had escaped from the bathroom, its head lolling (barely) with its body. You shoot at it, but missed, as it had predicted the blast. The droid spins on its side and hides behind the couch. 

It was then that Kylo walked through the doors. At the intensity of the situation, you aim for him, thinking he's an intruder. For the love of Kriff, what is a Resistance affiliated droid doing in your quarters? 

But Kylo had blocked your blast and it ricochets into the hallway. You see a group of Stormtroopers yelp before the doors of your room shut. 

"What are you doing?" the Knight asks. The helmet has not come off his head so the modulator still cloaks his voice, making the question sound more frightening than what it really is. 

You glance towards the droid but he hides himself behind the couch, only his head peeking over at you. 

You point at the black ball. "What is that?" 

Kylo takes off his helmet and throws it to the ground carelessly. "A droid," he says casually. 

As he walks towards you, you set your blaster on the bedside table again. But you don't take your eyes off the little droid. He's still glancing at you, his little body wiggling each time he does. He beeps something at you. You raise a brow. 

"Why?" you ask. 

Kylo runs a gloved hand through his hair. He sits next to you. "Why what?" 

"Why is there a droid in our quarters?" you ask again, voice rising. 

Kylo begins to shed his boots and then his outer armor. He sighs, the signs of exhaustion showing.

You then realize the time of day and his arrival. You're asleep for eight hours and everything suddenly turns erratic? 

"Why are you home?" you echo your thoughts, occasionally glancing at the droid. 

Kylo stops fiddling with his boots and tosses his shawl onto the ground. "One question at a time." 

You sit cross-legged on the bed, your arms laying in your lap. You watch the droid with caution. After all, BB Units were strictly used for Resistance pilots. An astro droid...in your bedroom. 

Kylo gets up from the bed, boots off, and the majority of his uniform. You watch as he rubs his shoulder blade again - the one unaffected by artificial mechanisms. He groans in pain, but does it silently enough so that he might get away with it. But you notice it. Of course you do. 

"Kylo," you repeat. 

He turns, his eyes tired. "What?" 

He's being so _patient_. His shoulders are drooped and he brings his palms up to rub his face. Is he not feeling well? 

"What's wrong?" you ask him, climbing out of bed. You step towards him and he doesn't flinch. 

"I'm taking the rest of the day off," he replies. He looks towards the droid but doesn't mention him. 

Forget the droid; Kylo is taking a _day off_. Has the sky fallen? Has he had an aneurysm? You take a risk and run your hand along his jawline. He doesn't seem to mind but he isn't looking at you. He watches the droid. 

"The droid," Kylo begins. "When you were in the med-bay, I took some time for myself...went to Ferrum." 

You nod, massaging his bicep. He wasn't protesting against it so you took the opportunity in your hands. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. His muscles relaxed every time you hit a certain spot. You smile at yourself, feeling a bit of pride. 

"What did you do?" you ask softly. 

Kylo starts shrugging out of his shirt and you help, lifting it over his head (as much as you could anyway - damn your height difference). When he tosses it with the other forgotten clothing, he walks towards the droid. "I went to think. After everything that happened..." he pauses, shaking the thought away. He softly kicks the ball towards you. It was tall enough to hit you in the knee. "Well, I know it's not the same as a child..." 

Oh. 

Kylo looks embarrassed when you don't say anything. He averts his attention to watch as the droid inspects you, its sensor blinking every other moment. You stand still, noticing the way it hesitates to bump into you. It's definitely terrified you, especially after you almost shot it into dust. 

You feel bad. 

You hold your hand out to it as if it's some sort of strange animal. The droid glances between you and your hand, processing its decision. Finally, he bumps against you and chirps. You grin and pat him against his metallic head. 

"You...you got me a droid." It's not a question, though it sounds it. You don't know what to say. 

Kylo clears his throat. "Yes, well...I feel..." he stops, careful to give way to any sign of humanity, apparently. You wait, the droid still beside you and staring up at the menacing Knight. 

You ignore his silence. You didn't feel like getting into it either. You decide to ask, "What's his number?" 

"He's a BB Un..." 

"I know," you say. "A BB Unit. A Resistance droid. Why?" 

Kylo tears off his gloves (he'd forgotten about those) and throws those aside too (for the love of Kriff, didn't the man have any sense of organization?). "His number is four. BB-4. And he was abandoned. I wiped his memory." 

You watch as the droid rolls towards the bathroom and disappears behind the door. "And you gave him a paint job?" 

"Yes," he said. "I can't have a droid that looks like a Resistance fighter's." 

"Well..." you pause and smile. "He's adorable." 

The commander nods curtly, embarrassed. "Yes, well..." he turns for the bathroom. "He's yours." 

A few moments later, Kylo's foot kicks BB-4 out of the bathroom. " _Move it, ball_." 

 

<><><><><><>

 

You're sitting on the ground, inspecting every crevice of BB-4. 

Kylo was right; it's not a child - but it's something. You're beginning to notice that BB-4 actually _craves_ your attention. He'll nudge your hand when you stop paying mind to him, even singing a bit to grab your awareness. You grin each time. 

No. BB-4 does not fill the void that you carry in your belly. But he's a start. 

The droid is beeping excitedly to you. You're not completely clueless, as you've been educated in a bit of his language. You grasp a couple words: " _new_ " and " _black_ " are just a few.

At one point you understand when he says, " _The big man is scary_." You laugh, nodding in agreement. 

"Yes," you say to him, knowing he can understand Basic. "Sometimes. But not always." 

The droid chirps back something, his tone higher and ending a on a question. You think it's, " _Why_?"

"Why?" you repeat for confirmation. BB-4 nods his head. "Well, he's..." you search for the word. "He's sad." 

 _Sad_ was the right word for it, you think. Yes, sad was it. 

BB-4 doesn't ask anything else because Kylo emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp. He walks past BB-4, a towel wrapped around his waist. The droid stays beside you and beeps that familiar sentence again: " _The big man is scary_."

"I can understand you," Kylo mutters. 

You smile at BB-4, petting his sides. "Kylo, thank you." 

Kylo looks at you from the bed, his hand massaging his shoulder again. He just makes a noise under his breath. 

You glance at BB-4. "BB," you say, noting the nickname. "Where's your charging dock?" 

BB-4 chirps wildly and glances at the far end of the quarters. 

"Ah," you begin. "Well, I'd like you to go there for a few hours and rest. Shut down for awhile, okay?" 

The little droid looks dejected but does what he's asked. He rolls away from your hand and, before sliding into his charger, sings a goodbye. You smile at him before his head tilts, indicating his sleep-mode. 

When BB-4 is asleep, you watch Kylo from your spot on the floor. You notice something, then. Your stomach coils into knots and fizzles like steam. He's so beautiful you can hardly stand it. You couldn't imagine it...being married off to anybody else. And it was the first time you realized it. 

You shy your face away from his, pretending to be busy with a thread on your nightgown. You still haven't changed into your day clothes, much too busy with BB-4. You wonder if your husband liked the thought of you being his wife or just accepted it. He didn't have to bring you a droid. Was that an action of sentiment?

"Kylo?" you ask him, barely looking up from your hands. 

He mumbles a noise of acknowledgment. 

You sigh, deciding against it, and instead say, "What happened to your shoulder?" 

Kylo replies, "Just sore." 

"It's been sore for months," you say. 

He shrugs. "It's fine." 

"No," you answer. You get up from your spot on the floor and seat yourself behind him on the bed. "Let me see." He tenses when you brush your hands across his bare skin, but relaxes once your knead your fingers into his shoulder blade. You hear him groan in relief. "Any better?" 

He nods wordlessly. 

So you continue. "Did anything happen to it?" 

Kylo shakes his head. "Not that I know of." 

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist and ignoring the towel he has on. You didn't mean anything sexual about it but once you maneuver yourself in the right position, Kylo grips the meat on your thighs. 

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. "What?" you wonder. Kylo growls deeply as a response. You twist yourself to see the expression on his face but his eyes are shut and his teeth are gritting. "Are you alright?" 

He nods. "Yes, just...yes, I'm fine." 

You notice the erection and laugh. His towel tents and it's rather noticeable. "I don't think you are," you snicker. 

Kylo sighs heavily and opens his eyes. "I'm fine." 

You purse your lips, examining the stiffness. "Mm...I don't think so." 

He shakes his head, his black hair almost getting in the way of his eyes. "We can't. You're recovering." 

"Nope," you say. "The medic says I'm okay." 

Kylo considers this, his eyes scanning along the softness of your thighs. He tightens his grip and your breath hitches in your throat. You turn your attention back to the tent in his lap.

"I don't see how else you're going to get rid of it." You situate yourself so that you're looking him in the eyes and blush timidly.

His hands wander down the back of your thighs until they find your ass.

You smirk. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! 
> 
> Merry (late) Christmas!!! 
> 
> SECOND PART IS COMING SOON, YA'LL.


	11. Forelsket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: *Sings blissfully: "Seeeeeeexxx!"*

**_Bruises._ **

That was the only word you could think of while Kylo gripped your ass in his hands. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as he kissed your lips, your cheek, your jaw. He had you gasping for air. Heaven. The flavor of his lips was minty as if he’d just brushed his teeth. You wonder if that was one of the things he’d been doing in the bathroom - a strange thought during sex.

You raise an eyebrow to yourself. Kylo’s head is buried in the space between your breasts, his mouth moistening every inch it could find. You had been too sheepish to moan and, for some reason, felt like BB-4 was going to turn on at any moment.

Kylo felt you tense beneath him. He lifted his face from your chest. With wild eyes he asks, “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you say, bringing his lips to yours.

Sitting in his lap while he has an erection…it’s quite an act. You move around it, mostly concerned about probing yourself way too early. You weren’t wearing any underwear and, well, he only had a towel on. Sure, you could have sex, but Kylo wasn’t…

Well, he wasn’t exactly graceful to get used to.

Kylo tears his mouth away from yours, his breathing heavy. He turns his attention to your breasts again and you laugh carelessly in his wavy hair.

“Hmm?” he asks, his words muffled.

You giggle, “You’re a breast man.”

Kylo smirks against your skin and sucks softly. “Yes,” he murmurs. You arch, trying to keep yourself from laughing when he gently teases a nipple. “Does that surprise you?

You can’t help it. You laugh in his grasp. “Yes,” you say, squeaking when it tickles. You thrash a bit in his arms.

Kylo notices this and uses it to his advantage. He was desperate to make you vocal and you knew it. You struggled, grumbling in irritation and damning your shyness when it involved sex.

“Don’t be afraid,” he mumbles, separating his mouth from your skin. He lowers his hands down your torso. “No one can hear you. And, even if they did…” he pauses, and so does his hands, right before the edge of your belly.

Your eyes flutter. “Even if they did…?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “They’d know you’re mine.”

At this, you let out a small squeak. Damn him and his irresistible dirty talk. It was a damn talent of his. Kylo smiled in victory when you let out that pathetic whimper.

“That…” you jab a finger into his bare chest. His pectoral muscles almost bend your finger completely backwards. “-that was good.”

“What?” he asks sinfully.

“What you just did,” you answer, knowing his game. “You know what you did.”

Kylo actually grins (though wickedly). “Well it’s true…” he mumbles. His head dips to your shoulder and he kisses down the length of your arm. “I want them to know.” Fingers pluck at your nightgown, exposing skin. Kylo takes a breast into his mouth.

You tilt your head back in submission and moan wantonly.

 “Ah…there it is,” he hisses.

You squeeze your eyes shut and softly moan in his chest. “Dammit,” you mutter.

He flicks against you with his tongue and you jolt backwards, his hands catching you. He doesn’t tear away from you. He just stays attached, sending bolts of pleasure down your spine and, well, lower.

Finally, when he knows you’ve had enough, he separates himself from you. You lean your forehead against his, your hands snaking around his neck for just a moment until you change your mind.

Gods, you had never done this before, but dammit all to hell if you weren’t going to try.

One hand stays around his neck and the other makes its way down…down…down…

The both of you gasp in surprise. He stops altogether, pleasure obviously contorting his scowl.

“Good?” you ask.

Kylo raises his eyes to you lazily, the pleasure evident. “Very good.”

You were clueless for the first minute or so. But once you started to experiment a little – a feather light touch here and there – you were bold enough to slip from his grasp and drop to your knees.

Kylo looked down at you like he was surprised. Maybe he hadn’t expected this spontaneity in you. Maybe he thought you were too sexually oblivious. Well, whatever the reason, he was enjoying it because the moment your hand meets with the exposed flesh, he grits his teeth.

You knew he was rather big but you hadn’t ever seen it erect. The first time it took you by a surprise – and it was purely for reproductive purposes only. Yes, you had felt it before, but you had never actually seen it this close.

It took you a few seconds to conjure up your bravery (again) because you suddenly felt an enormous pressure on your shoulders. What if you’re terrible at it? You’d be disappointed if he were terrible at it.

You shake your head to yourself, staring at his dick in your hand. This sort of philosophy wasn’t required now and you knew it; the only way you’d ever know was if you tried.

Your hand, shakenly, fondled him delicately and without vigor. You were testing it out – building the groundwork. After all, he knew it was your first time and, dammit, if he gave you hell for it…

Your fears are interrupted by Kylo. He moans your name and exhales deliciously.

Ah. Your fears have somewhat ceased. You decide to try some more. Maybe a bit of…

You lower your head and, before you can overthink it, place your lips against him. He’s a bit much to take it and you gag just slightly. The thought of you choking on his dick makes you feel self-conscious and you flush with heat.

You’re way too shy to even consider looking up at him through your lashes. (You’ve heard, from other women, that men find that “hot as hell”, but you could never picture yourself doing it…no matter how badass you are.)

Kylo hisses through his teeth. It makes a sharp and orgasmic sound.

Is this permission to…

“Go faster,” he demands.

Feeling as though you’re taking the stage in front of thousands – maybe even millions – of people, a swarm of butterflies explodes in your stomach.

But, fuck it. You know you’ve wanted this.

So you do. You bob your head up and down and (to your pleasant surprise) hollow your cheeks around him. This brings another whisper of pleasure from him, so you do it repeatedly before you feel a slimy substance begin to escape from him. This is when he pulls away from you, his eyes wide with desire and a look you can’t place your finger on.

You were going to stand up but, instead, Kylo pushes you down to the ground. Your back meets with the floor with a slap but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, the cold tile colliding with your skin causes your nipples to peak and you moan with satisfaction. You see the fire still blazing in Kylo’s hickory colored eyes.

What now? You think.

The two of you stare at one another – sexual tension so thick that you can feel it in your blood. Your skin trembles at his touch. Kylo’s features are so intense that, for a moment, you think he’s angry at you.

But then he says it.

“I need to fuck you,” he growls, his teeth bearing.

Your chest rises and falls, your breasts open to the air and your skin peppering with goosebumps. You nod lethargically, though completely willingly.

“Yes,” you reply, breath giving way. “Please.”

Kylo doesn’t skip a beat. He turns you over so quickly that it takes a second to process the new positon. Your wobbly knees meet with the floor and your hands collapse underneath you so that your ass is above your head. You stay balanced by your two elbows, your cheek flat against the chill of the floor.

You wiggle your butt against him.

“Be patient,” he whispers, groping your ass with his massive hands.

A moment of situating. You feel a pair of warm digits press against your lower thighs. A balmy liquid begins to pool between your legs and you mewl at his touch.

“Eager, aren’t you?” he asks with a rich chuckle. It’s immoral. Chaotic. It’s…absolutely, fucking sexy.

That’s when he runs his hands across your lower lips, gently enough so that it tickles but stimulates something within you that wasn’t possible with pure intercourse. You roll your eyes in the back of your head, but when he starts to insert a finger, you grab him.

“Wait,” you say, and he stops immediately, fingers stilling. “I just want you.”

Kylo hesitates.

“Yes,” you say, answering unspoken thoughts. “Just you.”

The commander untangles himself from the complex position the two of you were in, though keeps you on your knees. “This…” he says, lifting your nightgown. The cold air hits you perfectly and you jump at the sensation. He runs a hand along your spine. “This is mine.”

Below him, you make a noise in agreement.

“What’s that?” he asks, proudly. Smugness coats his tone.

“I’m yours,” you tell him breathlessly.

“Yes,” he whispers in your ear. “All of you is mine.”

In a swift motion, Kylo tears your silk nightgown clean from your body. He tosses it to the side without a care in the world. A deep rumble escapes his throat when you whine.

You don’t expect Kylo to tell you when he’s ready. He didn’t before. But when he positions himself between your legs, he firmly grabs your hips and stills.

“Are you ready?” he asks with bated breath.

You can’t speak. The words have escaped you. You can only nod your head in permission.

You realize immediately that, yes, it hurts. The myths that your vagina widens after sex the first time is _not_ true. It’s still as numbing and as uncomfortable as the first round and, considering Kylo’s size, you were surprised you could stand it at all. But, damn, it felt good. And the more you became used to him, the more you wanted it.

All of it.

“Oh,” you moan, still processing the snug fit. You try to grip the floor but, alas, there is nothing for you to hold onto.

Kylo pauses within you for only a moment before sliding out again. When he thrusts back into you, the pain is sharp but, oh, so necessary. It’s only a few seconds later that he begins to set a faster pace. Your skin meets with his, your ass jiggling against him, and your moans overlap with his own.  

“Is that what you want?” he demands. He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls. You gasp, mostly because you’re surprised at how much you like it. “Is this how you want me to fuck you?”

Oh, gods. The heat begins to rise.

“Yes,” you moan.

Kylo takes his free hand and slaps your ass. It stings and you can feel the welt growing on your skin. Since when did you like it rough?

Granted, how would you have ever known?

He speeds up, his dick now hitting spots that you’d have to remember for future reference. If you weren’t in total bliss you’d be petrified of how loud your sobs were.

“Fuck,” Kylo panted.

He lifts you to your knees and presses you against his chest, managing to not unlatch himself. The grip he has on your throat isn’t painful, but appreciated. You are, however, denied to scream as loudly as you’d like in this position. Maybe that’s a good thing.

The new position brings upon all kinds of wonders. You couldn’t have imagined there were that many nerves in such a small, compact place. But, if anyone could find them, it’d be Kylo.

You whimper, feeling the heat become more intense. Your mouth begins to drool. You clench around his shaft, milking him and letting the sensation gush through you.

“Oh Kylo,” you beg.

“Is that,” he pants between each word. “Is that gonna make you cum?”

You moan, closing your eyes in concentration. “Yes.”

“Hmm?” His hips pound into you. “What?”

“Yes!” you shout. You growl with intensity.

Kylo smirks against your cheek and lets a free hand travel down to your spread thighs. It’s then that he begins to rub your clit.

With that, you become undone. The world becomes black. Your entire body becomes numb. Fireworks dance behind your eyelids. The intensity of the orgasm is so strong that you don’t even feel it when the two of you accidently fall to the floor.

But Kylo catches your head from smacking against the linoleum. You notice that he’s still entwined with you.

“Keep going,” you say to him. “Come on.”

He does and he watches your breasts as they bounce back and forth. A hunger sparks in his eyes.

“Where do you…fuck...here do you want me to…” he begins, but you cut him off.

You grasp his sweating face between the palms of your hands. His hair gets in the way of his eyes as he thrusts into you.

“I want your child,” you whisper.

He moans at this, a ripping groan that pierces through the (otherwise) silent room. You feel the hot jets flood within you. His hips jerk only for a second before he collapses onto you.

The two of you lay in the center of the room, still attached.

You roll over to face him, though just slightly, as you don’t want to unhinge yourself from him. The fullness feels right for now. You see him staring at you through sparkling eyes and, for the first time, Kylo raises a hand to your cheek and caresses you softly.

“We’ll see…” he whispers.

Your eyelids flutter and it was then that you fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORELSKET / "The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Hey guys! I made a mood board for "BALEINE", which is the reader's home planet!! : https://goo.gl/FUcqlg
> 
> //
> 
> Hello, loves.  
> Space Mama passed away today. Carrie will forever be in our hearts. I am devastated about the news. I know that she'd approve of this chapter mostly because she'd BE SO TOTALLY PROUD THAT I WROTE EXPLICIT SMUT FOR THE FIRST TIME. 
> 
> Love you, Space Mama.


	12. Moonstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Aftercare.

It was strange to be held by him. 

His nose, long and Romanesque, was buried into your head of hair. He inhaled and exhaled as any man who slept soundly with his wife would do. His long, freckled body was tangled with yours. 

You were in a state of shock from the intimacy anyway, but when you felt his hand resting gently on your stomach, you stilled beneath him. It reminded you of the growing ache that battered against your cervix and accentuated the emptiness of your belly. He had unhooked himself from you while sleeping and moved the two of you from the floor onto the bed. You were now enveloped in a hill of blankets and luxurious pillows. 

Do you dare wake him? 

You decided against it. He earned, and needed, the rest. Besides, it was very rare that he wasn't disturbed; it was his day off, wasn't it? Those only came once in a blue moon and you couldn't have been sleeping for more than three hours, as BB was still resting peacefully in his dock. 

Laying in the silence caused the weight of reality to fall heavily on your chest: Kylo Ren, commander of the First Order and Sith apprentice, was holding you in his arms. 

Yes, he was. 

There's a bit of stirring from him. He straightens his shoulders in his sleep as though he's beginning to stretch. When he finally opens his eyes you find that they're sparkling with golden specks. It's as though they've changed within the past few hours. The hard, black irises seemed to be replaced by a mellowed, hazel color.

You wait for him to shrug away from you but he doesn't. Instead, he watches you curiously as though he's puzzled. You turned into stone, afraid that he'll tear himself away from you. Surely he would. The embrace was too warm - too honest for him. 

You start to say something but are cut off by his long fingers reaching up to card themselves through your ratted hair. "I've made a mess of you," he mumbles. 

You blink. "What?" 

He smirks a bit and your heart falls to your ankles. "Your hair. I ruined it." His voice is low and scratchy, drowsiness evident. It makes him sound more dominant - something you didn't think was possible. 

You recall the tassels of hair that had been gripped in his fist. You blush at the memory and shrink in his arms. "It was a mess anyway." 

He tilts his chin in response. There's a few seconds of magical silence before he says, "You're tense." 

"I'm not used to this," you reply sheepishly. 

He raises a single eyebrow, fingers pausing in your hair. "Used to what?" 

You look up at him through your lashes, afraid of his reply. "Being held by my husband," you whisper shyly.

It seems like years before he answers. His eyes softens as he watches you, his mouth turning down into a small frown. He shakes his head apologetically, taking his fingers to rub a circle in your cheek. "I know," is all he says. 

You shiver at his touch. The intimacy makes you weak. You begin to feel lightheaded. 

It's then that C-50 enters into view from the blast doors. His stiff and metallic body glints in the light of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. When he reaches your bed, Kylo still has not released your cheek in his palm. 

"Ambassador Ren," C-50 says formally. "General Hux has requested a word." 

You mumble under your breath, frozen in Kylo's touch. "Doesn't he understand I'm suspended?" 

C-50 just says, "He mentioned something about Nona, ambassador. I do believe it might be important." 

"Of course it's important. I just don't want to deal with it." You begin to shift out of Kylo's arms and he tightens his grip on you for a split second as though he wants you to stay. At this you blush and bow your head. 

You wrap the sheets around you and hike yourself from the bed. Your cervix responds with a shout of pain. You flinch and hold your lower abdomen, half-waddling to the doors.

You're wrapped in a thin sheet despite the presence of the general. It's very unprofessional but, in your defense, you were told you wouldn't be bothered for the next few weeks. Hux is standing in front of you, clad in his black uniform, his hands crossed behind his back. His jaw slacks when he sees you in your disheveled state; hair wild and cheeks blooming with color. You see him glance at Kylo in bed (who is now covered by a Bantha blanket). At this, he clears his throat. 

"General Hux," you say, smiling. You enjoy the appalled expression stewing on his face. "Are you here for the commander?" 

The general clears his throat again. "I...no," he stutters. "I wanted to speak with you about Nona." 

You flutter your lashes, enjoying the game. "What about her?" You hear Kylo scoff from behind but choose to ignore it. 

Hux blinks a few times and his eyes wander along your form. He notices the soft curves and the outline of your hips through the light fabric. You watch him tense his knuckles against his taut, pale skin. "I just wanted to know what her credentials were..." 

He looks embarrassed. You love it. 

"I can assure you that Nona is very capable of her position as my second-in-command, General." You shift your weight on your other leg and watch as he tightly swallows a gulp. "My father trained her himself." 

"Yes, well..." 

"And, in fact, I don't believe that's necessarily your concern," you say. "If you don't mind my saying." 

Hux shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He decides to end the conversation. "We'll pick this up later," he says before sauntering away. 

The blast doors shut before you start giggling. You give yourself a figurative pat on the back. "That was entertaining," you tell Kylo. He's lounging against the bed, his hands crossed behind his head. 

"You were very good," he smirks. "I think you actually frightened him." 

You smile proudly. "Yes, that was my intention." You walk back to the bed and collapse face first into the pillows. "Do you think he's ever seen a naked woman before?" 

Your mouth is pressed against the fabric of the pillows so your sentence is mumbled. Kylo says, "Repeat that." 

You sit up on your elbow and repeat the question. 

Kylo shrugs his broad shoulders. You watch as the tendons twist against his bones. "He doesn't seem like the kind of man who enjoys that." 

You knit your eyebrows together. "Do you think he likes women?" 

Kylo shrugs once more. "I don't know. Maybe." He reaches for you and when you timidly wrap yourself around him, he kisses your temple. 

 _Woah_. 

"I like this," you whisper in his scarred shoulder. "It feels real now." 

You feel Kylo smirk against your skin but it fades quickly. "I'm not sure how to do it." 

You look up at him, twisting your chin around to watch his eyes. They're blooming with something you don't understand. "How to do what?" 

Kylo pauses. "How to be a husband. How to be warm. It's not in my nature." 

You smile and kiss his forearm. He clenches it around you. "You're doing just fine." 

The commander, husband, lover, and companion, tilts your chin to kiss you on the lips. Sweetly. Softly. Slowly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOONSTRUCK / "Unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Hi guys! 
> 
> I know this is a really short chapter but I wanted to get something posted so you guys don't loose interest. I hope I didn't make Kylo too out-of-character in this chapter, but he's beginning to warm up to the idea of being a husband and not just a partner, you know? 
> 
> I wanted the miscarriage to change him for the better. The bond between two people when experiencing the loss of a child can dramatically alter their relationship - whether it be for better or for worse. 
> 
> Anyway, we'll see what happens. Keep reading!


	13. Virago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Politics with Hux. A disturbance in the Force.

The next few days was dedicated to BB-4’s care.

               The little droid kept you busy. He chirped and cheered when you payed attention to him and, when you didn’t give him enough affection, reminded you of it. You wiped the dirt he had picked up from the Finalizer off his body. You made sure he was fully charged, that there were no loose wires, and that he was satisfied in his new home.

               Kylo was more benevolent than usual but he wasn’t completely rid of his short temper and mood swings. He did, however, kiss you more often and held you against him whenever your back was turned. It was nice – it really was. You felt wanted.

               Nyx was cleaning the quarters on this particular afternoon. She whistled a familiar tune as she polished various items. You, on the other hand, were going through files and disobeying doctor’s orders; _of course_ you weren’t going to sit and stew for weeks. You had to work on _something._ You couldn’t sit and stare blankly at the wall where the thoughts of your unborn child crept into your mind; it wasn’t healthy. If anything would affect your recovery (and not for the better) it was remaining still.

               You tap something on your datapad. Ambassador Tyth’s face appears in a holographic form. You watch it with distress, thinking about the last time the two of you had met. It was an unfortunate day. The man seemed smug even in his hologram.

               A list of details about Tyth popped up on the file. His grandfather had served in the Clone Wars and he had done his duty as pilot in the war against the Empire. _Against the Empire_. _Strange_ , you thought. You didn’t know anything about that.

               For some reason, you didn’t trust the elder ambassador. His outburst at your last meeting had struck a chord (and with good reason, too). Tyth seemed to hold classic morals and political viewpoints. According to the file, he had become an ambassador after he served as a member of the senate for twenty years. By the time he was forty, he was one of Baleine’s most distinguished politicians.

               Your father always liked him. But for what reason, you never knew. You recalled their many secret meetings – ones that you couldn’t intrude on. Tyth was always a very mysterious man and didn’t budge on policies that “mattered most to him”. If it deemed fit for his own personal gain, he supported it. It was as simple as that.

               So you supposed it really shouldn’t have surprised you when he accused you of being brainwashed.

               You continued to read the file. The rest of it seemed bland: he had come from a wealthy family and was the middle child of five boys; his wife had died of a heart attack. But the thing that jumped out at you was brand new information.

               Tyth’s daughter, Yula, had disappeared fifteen years ago.

               You think you remembered that. You were only five at the time but it caused commotion within the palace.

               The daughter of a senator…gone.

               “Milady,” says Nyx, her voice high and pleasant. It carefully pulls you from your thoughts and you smile warmly at her as a reply. “The general is here. As you requested.”

               Hux had been ignoring you ever since the “sheet debacle”. You didn’t blame him. After all, when was the last time he saw a woman who wasn’t in uniform? You nodded to Nyx and stood up from your seat on the couch.

               “Bring him in,” you tell her.

               Nyx nods and enters the code for the blast doors. The pale faced general walks into view a bit more casual than usual. He keeps a neutral expression and stands tall in front of you, shoulders back and hands in front of him.

               “You called for me, ambassador?” he asks, eyes strictly business and on your own. Maybe this was a side-effect from your most recent encounter.  

               “Yes. I wanted to discuss our guests’ arrival with you,” you began. “When do they land?”

               Despite being on suspension, you obviously knew of all the going-ons in your line of work. Nona had kept you informed every day with a short recap. Because of Tyth’s outburst, he was required to return for a follow-up meeting. Fan would be attending him – you had made sure of that. Tyth obviously needed a babysitter.

               “I was told in about two to three hours.” Hux shifts in his stance, glancing away towards the windows overlooking the fields of Yanni.

               You allow a subtle grin. Did he blush that easily?

               “Good. Then I’ve caught you just in time,” you begin. You lean forward, hands crossed and legs too. “General, I have to ask you something. I know it’s not in your job description, but I can’t ask the commander to do it…because of the current situation.”

               Hux raises his chin. “Yes?”

               “I need you to keep an eye on Ambassador Tyth. I don’t trust him,” you say firmly.

               The general twitches a ginger eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

               You sigh, picking at a piece of lint on your gown. “He had a little outburst at our last meeting. He implied that I was _disillusioned_ ever since my union with the commander. I had to file a report and everything. It’s why he’s here.”

               Hux considers this. “Why would he say that?”

               You laugh sardonically. “I didn’t give him the ‘okay’ to blow up Yabbai. The two planets have been at it like lizards and fish ever since I left office.”

               “Yes. I know of their disagreement,” he answers.

               And who didn’t? The tension between Baleline and Yabbai have been going on for years but in the most recent months their relationship was down spiraling.

               “I know that Nona is perfectly capable of her job. Like I said before, my father taught her everything himself. But she’s not used to politics like this. This is different than anything back home.” You twist your hands together anxiously.

               The general blinks once or twice but stays perfectly still. “What would you have me do?” he asks. You were surprised at how well he was following orders. The two of your positions were at the same level, so technically he didn’t have to do anything for you.

               Grateful, you begin. “When the ambassadors arrive, check Tyth for weapons…and Fan of course. We don’t want to raise any suspicion.”

               Hux nods lightly. “Then we would need an excuse.”

               You shrug. “Tell them that we suspect mutiny on board. Ever since the episode with FN-2187 I’m sure that’ll come as no surprise.”

               The general flinches at the memory. You didn’t blame him. You watch as he regains his composure.

               Through gritted teeth he says, “I thought ambassadors weren’t allowed to carry weapons.”

               You smile a bit. “We aren’t. But we do anyway.” You pause. “I’d also like you to place shock troopers on the bridge above the landing pad – just for precautions.”

               “I’ll make sure to inform Captain Phasma. Anything else?” he asks hesitantly.

               You nod. “Yes. Imperial guards for myself and Nyx. I’d also like for you to gather a squadron for the commander…discreetly, of course.”

               Hux looks concerned. His eyebrows knit together. “Do you suspect anything might happen?”

               You sigh heavily, looking him directly in the eyes as though to assert dominance. “I don’t know what to suspect, general. But I do not trust Ambassador Tyth and neither should you.” There’s a long pause and the two of you stew in one another’s silence. You take a deep breath. “Thank you, general. I appreciate this. You may leave now.”

               The general nods curtly and exits your quarters.

               A strange feeling comes over you, then. It chills the air. It rattles within your skull. You feel goosebumps slowly form on your arms and you close your eyes, focusing on the atmosphere.

               “I sense something…” you whisper. You feel Nyx’s eyes on you as you inhale slowly through your nose. “I must meditate.”

               “Yes, milday.” You hear the shuffling of her gown.

               With a deep breath, you begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VIRAGO // "A strong, brave, or warlike woman." 
> 
> // 
> 
> This is a terribly written chapter. Medication withdrawals and anxiety have ruined my ability to form sentences, but the story is in my head. Bear with me.


	14. Orphic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: The master.

"I sense something." 

Your eyes, glued shut, have been focusing on the bits of energy swarming through your mind. In your head, the waves of energy connect with one another like neon colored strings. A noise accompanies them - a low buzzing that makes your eyelids twitch. The over-stimulation of senses causes you to panic and with a breath of fresh air, you open your eyes to find your master sitting before you. 

He's cross legged, his ghost flickering lightly like it always has. His green eyes are visible and, even from another dimension, you watch as they dazzle in the reflection of the sun. The two of you focus on one another, listening...waiting. 

"What do you feel?" His voice penetrates through the buzz; you're relieved of it for only a moment. 

You furrow your brows and bring a hand to your temples. "I don't know." You pause. "I can't decide if it's good or bad. It's overpowering." 

The master nods. "Search your feelings once more," he says seriously. 

Your eyes slip shut again. You wait for it, and right as you're about to give up, you see it - the imagery. A deep blue glows inside your eyelids and purple follows. You know what this means. Your chest fills with a passion - a light. 

"Melancholy," you decide. You barely part your lips to whisper this. The blue fades quickly and you're left with a rich purple. Against the hue are lights of white rays - they dazzle against one another like stars. "There is sadness...but considerations of redemption." It confuses you beyond comprehension. You shake your head. 

You hear your master speak. "What do you believe will become of this?" 

You don't know. You need more. You wait for what follows. 

Patience is a virtue. After several minutes it flows within you like water. You squeeze your eyes shut to picture it more clearly. The purple turns into gold and it shines like water in the sun.

"I sense victory - but for whom I cannot tell," you finally answer. 

There's a beat. You concentrate on the colors before they fade before you, leaving nothing but the relative blackness in your lids. With a sigh, you open your eyes, lips parting with bated breath. The Force has not been so strong with you in quite some time. In fact, you can't remember the last time you've sensed something so great. Not even when you were carrying your child did you feel such an intensity. 

It took energy from you. You're suddenly very tired. Your shoulders droop and your arms fall limp in your lap. 

"The Force has become increasingly unpredictable in the past few months..." the ghost muses. He crosses his arms and the sleeves of his robe flicker. "Nothing has been for certain. With the loss of your child, your own future has been shaken as well." 

Air has been knocked from your chest. You bow your head in submission, eyes watering. "What should I do?" 

The master takes a deep breath. The intensity of the situation worries him and it frightens you. "Concentrate on your balance," he begins slowly. "These obstacles will cause you to stray if you do not control your ambitions." He stands, arms still folded against his chest. "Do not run to the darkness, nor to the light. Stay where you are. I fear your life depends on it." 

Breath hitches in your throat at these last words. You nod to him, your eyes straying downward. 

_"Yes, Master Jinn."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORPHIC // "Mysterious and entrancing. Beyond ordinary understanding." 
> 
> //  
> WOAH. WHAT? 
> 
> Another very short chapter for dramatics.


	15. Advesperascit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: VIOLENCE.

Doctor’s orders be damned. You were going to the landing pad.

Already dressed, the only thing you needed to do was to grab BB.

“BB,” you called. “Wake up. We’re going to the bridge.”

The droid lit up and chirped himself awake. When he saw you standing before the blast doors he beeped, “Why?” He rolled off his charging pad.

_“Because I’m the First Order’s damn ambassador. It’s my job.”_

 

 

<><><><><> 

 

There was no mercy.

The Stormtroopers who passed by froze in their walk and bowed their heads in acknowledgment. You did not look at them. You did not smile in response.

You were angry.

BB followed close behind, his little round body catching up every time you took long strides. He chirped something incoherent towards you but you ignored him, focusing on the energy that was pressing into your chest. The closer you were to the landing pad, the worse the tension got.

With the landing pad within view, you saw Hux standing by as Nona greeted the ambassadors with a friendly, political smile (her eyes did not smile, however, and instead remained firm in their sockets). It didn’t take long for the general to notice your engaging walk and, when he saw you, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Ambassador Ren,” Nona said, her voice clouded with perplexity. “What are you…”

You smiled sarcastically. “Well, I am the ambassador, am I not? What good of an official would I be if I didn’t do my job?” You stood close to Nona, hands crossed in front of you and eyes staring blankly at Tyth.

He was sallower than what he was a month ago. The color in his cheeks was gone and his eyes seemed barren. His head of grey hair was starting to recede and his fake smile deemed more inappropriate by the second, as it didn’t look rehearsed. He was completely unfiltered – raw and prepared for his assembly.

Beside him, Fan looked as naïve as possible. He didn’t look any different, aside from the bags under his eyes. “Hello, Ambassador Ren,” he said pleasantly. “We’re very happy to be here.”

You look towards him – eyes made of stone. “I would hope so, ambassador. We have a lot to talk about,” you waved before you. “Shall we?”

Fan nodded his head and smiled genuinely but the look on Tyth’s face made your stomach flip.

Hux caught up and walked beside you. He leaned in to whisper, “What are you doing?”

“My job,” you told him harshly.

And then it happened. A blaster shot rang through the air. Chaos nuked the entire base in one swift moment.

Behind you, Tyth and Fan were ducking but…they had no weapons. Amid the bedlam, you turned your eyes to see who the perpetrator was, but before you found them, you saw the first victim. It was a mechanic who had passed by. A smoking gash displayed itself against his chest.

You twisted, eyes skimming the base frantically. With all the bodies mixing with one another it was impossible to tell who shot first. The Shock Troopers on the bridge were zealously firing into the crowd…blindly.

Hux grabbed a hold of your arm. “Come!” he shouted over the noise.

But you shrugged him off and reached for the blaster at your thigh. “Hux! Get Kylo! Now!”

He shook his head before reluctantly grabbing the hidden pistol in his boot. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. He began to fire.

The base turned to anarchy. Half of the crew was dead while the other half abandoned the fight and fled for their lives. Shock Troopers were now filing into the crowd, their invisible armor making it hopeless to distinguish them.

One thing you noticed while scanning the scene, however, was that Nona was missing.

“General!” you shouted. A beam of red grazed your shoulder. “Where is Nona?!”

Hux looked around erratically. “I don’t know! Does it matter?!”

“Who’s shooting at us?” you roared. You couldn’t tell who it was; every blaster on the base must have been firing at once. “Never mind! Hux, let’s go! BB! Come on!”

BB-4 had been shoved into the crowd. He was electrocuting everyone who got too close, his internal arm buzzing someone to the ground. He beeped madly at you and pushed himself out of the sea of bodies.

The three of you ran through the halls. The skirmishing was making its way into the rest of the base now. You had to fire over your shoulder every other second; it was maddening.

 “Hux!” you screamed. He was still beside you, aiming at a _First Order_ _mechanic_. “Where’s Kylo?!”

The general shot a path. Bodies fell to the ground. “I don’t know!” he bellowed.

Dammit. Your intestines felt as though they were being twisted. “BB!” you yelped. “Can you get me Kylo’s location?!”

BB chirped wildly. It sounded like, “ _Yes_!”

“Find him!” you ordered. Your hand gripped the blaster before firing towards an electrician who had aimed for your head.

Only after a few moments, BB began to head down a different corridor. He shouted hysterically as he rounded the corners and dodged bullets. The base was mad with blasters. Everywhere you turned you found someone pointing a gun at your head.

You weren’t looking when you bumped into him. You had been shooting behind your shoulder at a rather skilled (and rogue) Stormtrooper. You cursed under your breath when the two of you collided.

Kylo didn’t say anything. He just gripped you by the arm and led you down the hallway. His lightsaber deflected bullets and he beheaded two or three people by the time the four of you were on the other side of the base.

This was the only area that wasn’t a battlefield. Once there was no one in sight, Hux bent down and rested his hands on his knees. He looked up from his unkempt hair.

“What in the Kriff just happened?!” he shouted.

“Implants,” you wheezed, catching your breath. “Rogue troopers, mechanics, engineers, pilots…”

Kylo was leaning against the wall and he slipped off his helmet. “We have to go,” is all he said.

“How? All the TIES are hijacked.” You clutched your chest, the blaster in your hand heavy.

Kylo shook his head. “No. The command shuttle.”

Hux swallowed a lump in his throat and weighed the pistol in his hand. _“Where are we going?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADVESPERASCIT // "The approaching dark. 'The evening draws near'." 
> 
> // 
> 
> At this point, my writing is rubbish. I'm just cranking it out. HA. Promise I'll try harder next time.


	16. ♡ NOT A CHAPTER, LOVES ♡

Hi friends! 

Don't worry! This isn't a post to tell you that LOR will not be posted anymore! 

I actually wanted to ask you guys a favor! I know a lot of you read this story and many of you have shared your opinions on it. I thank you all so much. It's so crazy how a fan-fiction can make a person's day! I can't believe I have some comments that say, " _Seeing you posted a chapter made my day_!" 

You are all so beautiful. I adore you. 

Anyway, the favor! 

Would you guys be interested in making a LOR playlist? You can make one for each chapter or just for the whole of LOR! I'll be trying to figure out what I could do for you guys as a payment - any suggestions? 

Hooray! Now let's delve into the next chapter. 

♡♡♡♡


	17. Cosmogyral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Fluff. Lots of fluff.

The general repeats the question in the shuttle.

He says it as though it’s the last question he’ll ever ask. “Where are we going?” he says, his voice higher than usual – an indication of dread, you suppose.

Kylo is madly pressing buttons against the dashboard. He doesn’t answer the general and he certainly doesn’t look at you. You try to avert your eyes elsewhere but you can’t help but notice the strange glances Kylo has been giving you since you arrived on the transport.

“Kylo,” you decide to say. Your matriarchal instincts take over. As he’s turning on cruise control you gently grab his bicep. “Kylo, where are we going?”

You glance at the general who is sitting in the co-pilot’s chair. His face is in his hands and he rests his elbows on his knees. When you ask the question, Hux looks up at you through messy and ginger locks. The look in his eyes says he’s relieved of the possibility of a more imminent answer.

The cruise control is set. You feel the shuttle move in an entirely different direction. Soon you’ll be out of Yanni’s atmosphere and into the orbit of space.

“Tatooine,” he says calmly. He doesn’t look at you when he says it but, instead, focuses on the steel of the ceiling.

The general behind the two of you huffs through his nose. “And why are we going there?”

Kylo tilts his head to glare at him and his auburn eyes become black. “They have no affiliations. No government. No laws. We’d be safe.”

The general sighs, looking at his gloved hands. “Until every bounty hunter in the galaxy hears about our recompense.”

For different reasons, you seat yourself on the pilot’s seat across from Hux. Kylo stands beside you, your hand still on his arm, though it’s slipped to his wrist.

Tatooine.

A breath of warm air slowly escapes from your lungs. You know it’s the only option; every planet habitable on the inner rim was now crawling with resistance proxies. It’s dangerous to take refuge anywhere else and you know it.

You’d heard things of the “sand planet”. Tatooine is considered a place of profit and opportunities. For others, it’s a literal hell. You know that the Hutts reigned over the barren plains and that the natives are poor to the lowest degree.

But it isn’t the rotten economy or the terrible excuse of a mafia that runs the planet. It’s the personal history behind it; quite like Mustafar.

You grip Kylo’s wrist and then pull away. “I’ll be in the back.”

The metal of the floor makes sound when you escape to the back. It’s out the general’s view but it barely fulfills your desire to be alone. Though the command shuttle is the most luxurious ship in the First Order, it’s small – with only one separate room.

It’s the refresher.

You stand at the sink, bracing its sides and observe the bags beneath your eyes which are dark and puffy; it’s as though you’d been irrevocably denied of sleep. Sometimes you felt as though you are.

The lights above you are bright and your head begins to hurt; you dim them with a wave of your hand.

Once you’d been monologuing the reality of your destination, you hear a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” you ask dryly.

On the other side of the door Kylo says, “It’s me.”

You watch in the mirror as your eyes dilate to the sound of his voice. You nod to yourself, gathering the courage for the next confrontation.

Once the door is unlatched, you find the commander standing firm. He watches you carefully. “Are you alright?” he asks.

You shrug, unsure of yourself. “Yes.”

Kylo sighs. “Scoot over.”

You raise an eyebrow. The refresher is the size of a small walk-in closet. But, then again, it was the only place of privacy with Hux onboard.

You step over for him, practically sitting on top of the toilet while he shrugs his way in. His broad shoulders nearly miss hitting the mirror. He shuts the door, locks it, and jiggles the handle to make sure it can’t be opened. Apparently, he didn’t trust Hux from barging in.

Kylo doesn’t say anything to you for a moment. The two of you stare at one another, processing emotions and the day in general, you supposed. His eyes have softened to a lighter maroon, suggesting that his mood is stable.

You sense nervousness in him.

“I know you feel it,” he says to you.

You blink, feeling a bit confused. “Feel what?”

“The Force. The strangeness of it.” Kylo clenches his fists at his sides.

You tilt your chin slightly. “There is a...” You pause. “ _Mood_ about it.”

The man in front of you exhales heavily as though he’s burdened with the privilege to sense something so very raw and so very real. “I don’t like not knowing what it is,” he tells you.

Your lips twitch. “You can’t always know.”

Kylo’s mouth threatens a sarcastic grin. “Well, why not?” he throws his glance in your direction, the complication beginning to form in his eyes again.

It hurts him. And it hurts you.

You reach out for his arm and, when you touch him ever so slightly, the fists at his side unclench. The tension in his arms loosen and you can feel the fabric of his armor retract gently beneath your touch. The teeth in his mouth stop gritting and he becomes moldable; you feel his affection for the first time and it is _overwhelming_.

“Kylo,” you whisper. “Kylo, it’s okay.”

He shakes his head as you place your palm against his cheek. He leans into your touch. “But what if…” He hisses through his teeth, eyes shut. “It’s not?”

You lean your head against his chest and let your hand drop to wrap it around the back of his neck. “Then we’ll make it okay,” you whisper to him.

Kylo wraps his arms around you and gently pushes you against him. Your cheek rubs against the coarseness of his armor. He smells like soap and melted iron. The two of you remain embraced until Kylo pulls away.

His hand travels to your belly.

“I feel good about this one,” he says in a murmur.

You smirk. “We don’t even know if there a ‘ _this one_ ’. It’s only been a couple days.”

Kylo lifts his eyes from your stomach. “There is,” he said. “I have complete faith and so should you.” He steps back and begins to open the door after a moment of stewing. “We’d better pay attention to Hux. He becomes insufferable otherwise.”

“Like a child,” you nod in agreement. But just as he begins to open the door you stop him with your hand. “Wait, Kylo.”

He turns to you. “What?”

You reach on your tippy toes, attempt to grip his neck, and kiss him softly on the lips. It’s lingering and zealous and, of course, he eventually he takes control. You’re forced to follow the direction of his mouth. Finally, you let go and see that his eyes are still shut when you’re finished. He blinks once or twice, settling his thoughts.

“Okay, let’s go babysit the general,” you say, shimming your way between him and the doorway.

You leave him, at the door, puzzled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COSMOGYRAL // "Whirling around the universe." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter! 
> 
> I wanted to give you guys something to hold you over. I know it's been a hot minute. 
> 
> How 'bout that Tatooine, huh? 
> 
> As always, I adore all of you.


	18. ♡ NOT A CHAPTER...AGAIN  ♡

I'm not quitting! 

Just a preview for the next chapter. 

 

 

 

>                                                 
> 
>  
> 
> { The storyboard and outfits for visual reference }

 

_I'm writing tonight! Just to hold you over!_


	19. Orenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Bonding with Hux. A medium of sorts.

Mos Eisley is a despicable city that harbors criminals of all kinds; if you can think of anything that slithers with corruptness or cheats a friend, it lives here. More than half the population is poor beyond definition, but the wealthy live like kings and queens. 

The Hutts have continued to rule Tatooine for the past fifteen generations (though not officially). The worm-like creatures have been involved in numerous political scandals. Neither the Republic or the Empire ever cared for them, but always endured their influence, and the First Order does not dabble in their business either. Anything here is free game. 

Truth be told, you'd always wanted to visit, mostly because of the stories. You didn't support the Skywalkers completely (aside from your rogue husband) but Anakin and Luke's home planet seemed like a place one only read in books. 

One of the main things you'd wanted to experience was the flea market. There was a strip in the center of the city that was soley dedicated to trading and bartering with, honestly, whatever was deemed necessary. There are no credits used here in Tatooine or any sort of official tender; just random items to get by in a day-to-day life for pleasure or purpose. 

You knew your current exile was a vicious situation, but there was an excuse to visit the flea market. 

"We're very inconspicuous," you tell both the commander and the general. "We have to change our clothes." 

Hux mulls over it. "Yes, I think I agree." 

Kylo seems distant. He never wore anything but his sleep wear and armor but he knew the consequences of being caught. Tatooine was the farthest planet from Yanni and the extent of the First Order's rule, but bounty hunters were ruthless. 

"They'd recognize your mask," you offer to Kylo again. 

He reluctantly agrees. "Fine," he says. 

You were currently dressed in "star destroyer" garb which was a black gown with long sleeves and heels.

You slip off your  shoes. "Hux, you'll come with me. Kylo, you'll stay here." 

"Since when are you in charge?" he replies, a cutting edge in his tone. You decide to ignore it. 

"Because of your..." you pause, inspecting the knight from head to toe. "-distinct clothing." 

"Hux is wearing a uniform," he shoots back. 

"He's able to take off the jacket, right?" you look towards the ginger who is still lounging in the co-pilot's chair.

He clears his throat. "Yes." 

"Good," you say. You toss your shoes to the other end of the shuttle; they hit the refresher door with a loud thud. "Take it off. We're running out of daylight." 

Hux sighs and begins to shed his jacket. 

Kylo walks towards you, his expression concerned. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

"You know I'm able to take care of myself," you say. 

"I do." 

"Then trust me." You scan the cockpit. "Where's my blaster?" 

Kylo retrieves the gun from the dashboard console. He drops it into your palm. "Don't hesitate." 

You smirk. "I never do." 

 

* * *

 

 

On the way to Mos Eisley, Hux remains silent and your feet burn in from the heat of the sand. The command shuttles has been parked outside of city limits, far enough away to avoid suspicion but close enough to walk without feeling faint. 

There was no way in kriff, however, that you'd be balencing on heels throughout the city and, if you were being realistic, it was impossible to walk in heels in sand. Simply impossible. 

How strange is must have been for the citizens of Mos Eisley in stained clothing to see a woman dressed in rich, black fabric with no shoes. 

"Where is this succession of markets?" he asks you. 

You're currently entering the south side of the city. 

"I'm not sure. I'd ask but I don't speak Huttese..." you trail off, head spinning to find anyone who looks like they might speak basic. 

Hux sighs and heads towards a thin, green creature with four eyes. He begins to speak in a tongue you couldn't translate if your life depended on it, but it sounds very angry and very firm. When he's done, the green creature doesn't look displeased and it brings you great relief. 

"It's a mile away." Hux begins to walk north and you attempt to catch up, your bare feet stepping over stones. 

"You speak Huttese?" you ask out of breath, finally at his side. 

"You're an ambassador. I'm surprised you don't." He keeps his eyes straight and you watch as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

"I don't do business with Tatooine. They don't apply to us," you remind him. 

"Yes, but I expected you to be educated in most languages, if not all," Hux replies. "There should be no barriers." 

"It wasn't considered important enough. A waste of time, as my tutor put it," you tell him. You dodge a woman carrying a jar of liquid at her side. Then you stop in the middle of the road, realizing the snark in his voice. "Are you implying I'm inadequate of my position?" 

Hux turns towards you. People move around him like a plague. A few curse in basic at him, probably assuming that was the language he spoke. Hux's hair flops against his forehead. Its interesting to see him so wild when he's usually gelled and proper. His green eyes seem to sparkle in the different light of Tatooine. 

But he's annoyed. You can tell by the way his mouth curls slightly downward. "No," he answers. "In fact, I'm rather shocked." 

You raise an eyebrow. "Shocked?" 

"You're very good at what you do. I expected you to be fluent in all languages of our galaxy," he tells you before turning sharply on his heels. 

Interesting. A compliment from Hux - or at least the best compliment he could possibly conjure up. You decide to accept it. After all, it was the best you'd get - you were sure of that. Besides, when was the next time the general would say something so nice? 

A few minutes and a couple of interesting interactions with natives later, you arrive at the market. 

It was sprawling with cultural life. Men and women of all creatures were bartering with one another in loud, almost comical, voices. At one point you see a woman throw a pair of pliers over a table and leave with a loaf of bread. 

The two of you have still somehow avoided proper interaction, despite hesitant looks tossed in your direction. Hux is a ginger haired, pale man with First Order issued pants and black shirt. You were in elegant, political wear, sweating to an immoral degree underneath your armpits. 

It only takes a few moments to find a tailor stand that suits Hux's taste. He'd been arguing that he wouldn't wear something "uncomfortable in both material and appearance". You sigh, somewhat agreeing. 

The tailor stand sits in the far end of the line. You've noticed that further down the market, the better the quality. The peasents were unable to support the demand of clothing, as they always made their own. Fabric seemed to be scarce and expensive. 

The man and woman you stood in front of now were hanging crisp, linen garments on stone hangers. They chatted quickly with one another and exchanged laughter. They were obviously much cleaner than those further down the line. Their faces had no streaks of grease, though the man had a scar above his upper lip. The woman was graceful and moved about the stand with small, nimble feet. 

"Ask if they speak basic," you told Hux. 

The general nods and grabs the attention of the couple folding, what looked like, night robes. 

He speaks to them in the same complicated language from before. You notice the odd clicks of the tongue in their proper places and the spluttering of particular words. You realize how exotic (and ugly) the language was. 

After a moment of conversing, Hux turns to you. "No, they don't." 

"Are they native?" you decide to ask, just for precaution. 

More garbling. 

"Yes," Hux tells you. "Why?" 

You shrug, fingering the hem of your sleeve. "Just in case they recognize us." 

The general seems to understand. He nods in agreement. "Good thinking," he says. "What did you want?" 

You were about to speak when it dawned on you: payment. 

"Oh kriff," you mutter. 

"What?" Hux asks. He's busying himself with a deep-colored fabric draped over a hanger. 

"What are we paying with?" 

Hux smirks. "I've got that taken care of." He pats his leg and you tilt your head, puzzled. 

"As long as you're not blowing our cover..." you mumble. 

The woman behind the stand smiles beautifully at you. She has a pair of onyx eyes and a mouth plump and red. Her skin is glorious with melanin and the sun soaks into her cheeks, making her skin glow with heavenly light.

She can't speak to you, obviously, so she motions for you to come towards her. You, hesitantly, obey. 

She points to a chest which is tucked beneath the tent. No one would be able to see it unless they came behind the stand. You watch as the sunlight gleams against the jewels on its wooden front. She opens it slowly. Inside is a white, linen gown which she holds against your body. 

It's exactly your size. It drapes to the ground, just barely brushing your ankles. On the neck is a collar that also serves as a hood to protect one's self against sandstorms, you suppose. The fabric is light and cool but covers all nudity underneath. 

She hands it to you with certainty before saying something to you in Huttese.

Hux glances up from a jacket the other shopkeer attempts to trade. "She says it's 'for your journey'," he tells you.

You smile at her, afraid to take it. You were concerned she might snag it back from your hands. She pushes it into your arms. Then she says something again; you damned your lack of skill.

"Hux?" you ask. You nod towards the woman.

Hux asks the woman to repeat what she said. She replies with a smirk and he looks embarrassed. "She says, 'your husband will enjoy it as well'." 

You blush, carefully draping it over your arm. "Thank you," you tell her even if she can't understand. 

But you think she might. And then she does something that makes your head spin. She places a gentle hand on your stomach with smiling eyes and cooes something in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Multiples. Within you," Hux translates, though he's looking down at another garment. "Whatever that means." 

You blink at her. How could she have possibly known? 

"I've gotten everything," Hux tells you, busy with retrieving something in his pant leg. "You'd better find something for Ren; I've just heard something about a storm." 

You're frozen, watching as the woman retracts her hand from your belly. She then walks towards Hux and lowers his arm; in his palms are two First Order blasters. The payment, you assume. 

The woman says something to Hux with soft enthusiasm. He's silent for a moment, his face thawing. To your surprise, he smiles very lightly at the woman. 

Hux mutters something under his breath. A 'thank you', maybe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORENDA / "(n.) A mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to affect change in their own lives." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Sorry this took so long guys! 
> 
> Have any of you been interested in the playlist idea? Shoot me a message if you have! (Or comment below!) 
> 
> BTW I did not edit this yet. Just wanted to post it quickly!


	20. Appentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Mention of sex (though not shown), a bit of fluff, and the situation on Yanni.

The sandstorm hits just as you and Hux arrive at the shuttle. The moment the door opens, you scuttle inside and duck for cover. 

Hux begins to shake the sand off his clothing the moment you step inside. You glare at him, watching the minuscule and thousands of grains of sand splatter across the floor. What a mess. 

"Hux," you begin, your political tone returning. "I need a moment alone with the commander." 

Kylo is sitting in the pilot's chair, his legs propped up on the dashboard and his eyes watching the storm outside. 

The general scoffs and turns to the Knight. "Your wife seems to think she's my superior today." 

Kylo doesn't glance away from the window. "That's because she is..." he trails off lazily. 

Hux leaves. You notice the storm outside is _brewing_. The view of Mos Eisley in the horizon has completely vanished and a cloud of sand envelopes the four of you in the shuttle. 

Speaking of which...

"Where's BB?" you ask Kylo, seating yourself in the co-pilot's chair. You set your clothing onto the dashboard with a soft thud. 

"In the cargo bay. I found an extra charging pad." Kylo spins towards you. "He's in rest mode." 

You smirk a little. "You took care of him." 

Kylo's face falls. "What?" 

"You made sure he was charged," you say, the smirk still lingering. 

Kylo clears his throat, looking away. "Well, we need him. He's a droid..." he pauses. "He may be a good trade." 

At this, your grin immediately fades. "You don't mean that." 

In the corner of his eye, Kylo glances at you. "Maybe," he mutters, but then his lips curl upwards just slightly. 

"You're terrible," you growl. "I love that little droid." 

Kylo stands from his seat and rolls his broad shoulders. "Did you manage to find anything?" 

You nod, retrieving the clothes from the console. "Yes. Found something for you, too." 

Kylo grimaces, taking the pieces of fabric from your hand. When he unravels the black, linen pants and matching shirt, his face contorts into a scowl. 

"And to top it off..." you hand him a thin, russet colored shawl. "For your protection against the sand." 

The commander's eyes roll to the back of his head. "I hate this." 

You click your tongue in false concern. "I know you do," you say. You turn around and toss your hair to the side of your neck. "Unzip me. I need to get out of these clothes." 

He saunters near and you shiver at the sensation of his large hands softly running their way up your hips. He rests there only for a moment before leisurely unzipping the dress...taking his time. His lips find your neck and you're left a silent mess in his arms.

Blushing, you remember the general in the refresher. "Kylo," you whisper. "Hux..." You tilt your head to allow more room for his lips. 

Kylo lowers the zipper until it reaches the center of your back. "He'll live..." he mumbles against your shoulder. 

Frisson arises against your skin. "I'm a mess," you say to him. "I stink. My hair is ratty." 

You feel him shake his head against your bare skin. Your dress falls to the floor with ease and you're left in nothing but your purest form. 

It's when Kylo starts to grip your lower thighs that you hear the refresher door start to rattle. You squeal, cowering behind the massive commander in attempt to shield your body. 

Hux arrives into view with his tailor-made jacket and crisp pants. When he looks up from the hem of his sleeve, he sees only a glimpse of your bare arms. He sighs dramatically before turning around and walking in the opposite direction. 

"I'll be in the cargo bay," he mutters. 

As soon as your hear the cargo door slam, Kylo begins to undress with a pleased look on his face. 

"What is it?" you ask him. 

"I sometimes wonder if Hux has any experience in that area," he replies, shrugging off the first layer of his armor.

"I'm sure he has. He's a good looking man." You take each article of clothing from him and begin to fold it. 

Kylo stops what he's doing, his hands completely freezing. You don't even notice it until you hear a strange noise in his throat. You lift your chin to find him staring incredulously at you, his eyes concerned but also lit with passion. 

"What?" you ask. 

"You think he's attractive?"

You shrug your shoulders, busying yourself with folding. "Sure." 

Kylo narrows his eyes (though you expect to himself). He averts his attention from you and begins to shed more clothing in silence. 

You sigh heavily, sensing an argument. "What?" 

Kylo doesn't say anything more on the matter. Instead he begins an entirely new (and more important) subject.

"I've spoken with Lieutenant Mitaka," he starts, voice more husky than before. "Most of the Resistance fighters have been eradicated." 

You nod, abandoning the subject of Hux entirely. "Good. When can we go back?" 

"In a few days," Kylo replies. He's almost bare now; only his pants to go.

"And the troopers? The ones that..." you pause, searching for the correct word but coming up short. "-went ballistic?" 

"You were right. They were implants, spies. They were all recruited very recently." 

"How recently?" you ask, watching as he begins to slide off his trousers. You bite your lip, sensing the heat warming in between your thighs. 

He sighs, pausing to slip off his trousers. "Ever since Ambassador Nona arrived." 

You freeze. "What?" 

"She's missing...fled the scene." 

To say that your heart pounded heavily in your chest was an understatement. Would Snoke think this was your doing? Thousands of versions of your fate begin to play in your head. You seat yourself in the co-pilot's chair, completely ignoring that you were stark naked. 

"Oh gods," you breathe. 

Kylo doesn't say anything. He finally slips off his pants and the sight of his thick member makes you twitch. You rub your thighs together in agony, despite the terrible news you've just received. Hormones answer to no one, apparently. 

You look up at the commander, red rimming your eyes. The sharp, pain from un-shed tears tickle in your nose. "This wasn't my fault," you whimper. 

Kylo nods. "I know." 

You sniff and wipe your wet cheeks with the back of a shaky hand. "You believe me?" you ask him, watching him with doe-like eyes. 

He begins to unfold the trousers draped over his forearm. "Of course I do. You're my wife." 

Butterflies. They fill your abdomen like soft feathers. Despite the impending disaster, he was here and you knew he would stay. It occurs to you then: _Kylo would never let anything happen to you_. 

Before he can pull on the new pair of trousers, you hold up a hand. 

"Wait a minute," you sniff playfully. You wag a finger towards him and smile softly. "Not yet." 

The knight smirks devilishly at you. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was half hour before you were finally able to pull on your new dress. 

The sex was shorter than you'd expected (or used to), but fulfilling. He was softer than usual, most likely because of Hux's obvious presence in the back. He held your hand instead of your hair and mumbled your name in your ear instead of rough descriptions of what he'd do to you. It was pleasant and your whole body felt whole afterwards. 

Of course, Kylo's hair was now in disarray (as was yours). You comb your fingers through your locks, clenching your teeth when unraveling a snag. 

When you slip on the gown, Kylo smirks at you (an unexpected and, if you'd be so bold, romantic gesture). You love the way it feels against your hot skin. It sweeps the floor in a perfect fit. 

"The woman that gave this to me..." you begin. "She said something." 

Kylo is now dressed in his new garb. "What?" He sits down in the pilot's chair. 

You inhale, twiddling your thumbs around one another. "She said I had multiples...within me." 

The commander swallows tightly, his eyes interested but intense. "Do you believe that?" 

You shrug, arms dropping at your side. "I don't know." 

He squares his shoulders. "Maybe it's true. Either way, I know you're with child." 

Your lips begin to curl. "You don't know for sure." 

"I do," he replies seriously. "I feel it." 

You chuckle and begin to pick up the rest of his armor on the ground. "You must have super sperm." You shake the clothing free from sand and get some of it in your eye.

He doesn't acknowledge the joke. "The Force favors us," he starts. "We _will_ have a son." 

You shift in your stance, biting your lip; it's becoming a habit. "And what if it's a girl?" 

Kylo says, "Then she'll be ours." 

You hug yourself. "You seem to be adamant on a son."

He nods, but otherwise still as stone. "I am." 

You look around the shuttle in attempt to change the subject. You're not sure how you feel about his reply.

"Where will we sleep?" you decide on. 

"There's cots in the cargo hold." 

"And food?" 

Kylo groans. "For that we'll have to venture into the city."

He says this like he dreads it more than anything in the world. You don't blame him. You hated Mos Eisley and didn't want to spend any time there longer than necessary, but you were starving and night was dawning. 

Kylo seems to sense this because he shouts Hux's name. It startles you and you jump slightly on your heels. 

Hux arrives in the doorway, his eyes peculiarly bright. "What is it, Ren?" he spits, but even the tone sounds less harsh.

 _Strange_...

You laugh a bit under your breath. "Are you hungry, General?" 

"I could eat, Ambassador." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appentence // "An eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond." 
> 
> / 
> 
> Hmm...what's with Hux?


	21. Quatervois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Prostitutes. A familiar resistance pilot.

You take BB. 

He slides atop the sand with no care in the world, his spherical body twisting and turning madly. A few times he's chirped at Kylo and you assume he's speaking to you through the intimidating knight. But of course the brooding man doesn't translate and, instead, ignores the little droid. 

You pat BB on his head, carefully avoiding his antenna. "It's alright, BB. We wouldn't let anything happen to you." 

At this, you hear Kylo scoff. You hit him on the shoulder. 

BB groans at the ragged sight of Mos Eisley. He tilts his head in your direction as though to say, " _Are you sure_?" 

Hux exhales dramatically. "Gods, this place is a disaster. It's even worse at night." 

The city of Mos Eisley has been lit up. The mud caked buildings show signs of life within, as the firelight flickers brilliantly against the stone establishments. Drunken creatures exit cantinas, reeking of alcohol. A few sober civilians seem to be walking home after a long day, as they carry tools underneath their arms.

BB makes a low noise; it sounds distressed.

"He's just being dramatic," Kylo mutters, referring to the droid. He walks onward.

You make a noise in your throat. "Hilarious, coming from you."

While Hux and Kylo argue about where to go, you and BB people watch. You notice that there's barely any women out. You've seen a couple but concluded they were prostitutes by their garb and heavy makeup. They stand in entryways of smelly establishments, disoriented, and babbling on about cheap sex.

A human woman with a head of bright red hair and thick lashes stalks up to Kylo. She seems to be the only sober(ish) prostitute you've seen so far (as she hasn't waddled or tripped over herself like her companions...yet).

"Hey handsome," she says in basic. Her voice is higher than yours; it glides off her tongue like honey. She reminds you of a damaged, fairy-tale-like creature. "Looking for some fun tonight?" Her words are rehearsed. You feel your stomach drop for her.

Kylo's face tells that woman that he isn't interested but she doesn't quit.

"How 'bout you?" she turns to Hux. "I like paprika in my pie." She winks and you assume she's playing on the color of his hair.

Hux seems extremely uncomfortable; you know this only because you've so recently seen him blush for the first time. To an outsiders point of view, he seems as put together as a military man can be; but you notice the subtle way he situates his feet and clears his throat.

She sighs once more and finally turns to you. "What about you? I don't usually do girls but...you're kinda pretty." She smiles, open mouthed, and her breath smells like rotted teeth. Your stomach churns and you feel queasy.

You twitch your lip. "No thanks."

"Oh, why not? Is mister tall-dark-and-handsome givin' it to you?" She pauses, eyes sneaking towards Hux whose eyes are narrowed. "Or the ginger maybe? He seems more your type." She reaches out to pet your hair but you grab her wrist.

"Don't," you warn her. Your voice drops an octave.

"What?" she turns to the two men who stop in their tracks rather abruptly. You see Kylo's fists clenching at his sides and you understand it's taking everything in him to not blow his cover. "Strike a nerve? Does the broody man not know you have the hots for ginger-ale here?" 

Anger was penetrating within you. How dare she assume something so serious? Besides, this was _Hux_ she was talking about. 

You clench her wrist tighter in your hand. "Go find someone else to barter with, you rotted mouth bi..." 

BB starts to beep wildly, interrupting your threat. He turns to a man carrying a plate of hot meat; its delicious aroma fills the air. At least, that's what you assume he's referring to. 

But then you see the orange and white droid. 

You drop the woman's hand. "You will leave now," you say, staring deep into her dull eyes.

The woman blinks, her entire persona changing instantly. "I will leave now." She walks towards a cantina robotically. 

Once she's gone, you point in the direction of the BB unit across the way. Kylo tenses and Hux immediately recognizes the droid. All of you do.

Except BB, because he's now darting towards his fellow droid in a maniacal speed.

"BB!" you shout. You glance desperately at Kylo. "They don't know my face," you sputter. "I have to get him." 

Kylo opens his mouth to protest but slams it shut when you hear the mutual, mechanical squealing from BB's direction. 

You don't wait for his permission; you don't need it. 

Dodging various civilians, you jog towards the two spheres. They beep at one another in friendly conversation despite their opposite affiliations. You're about to bait your droid away when you see an olive-skinned man with thick, black hair walking towards you. He's donning a brown leather jacket and trousers but you know he's a resistance pilot. Your hands immediately bring the hood of your gown over your face, covering the majority of your observable identity. BB continues to chirp happily at his new friend. 

"Hey there." The man smiles brilliantly at you. He pats the orange and white droid. "I see you've got a BB unit too." 

You nod mutely. 

"He's a strange color. Black and grey? I've never seen one of those," he muses.

BB-4 begins to say something but you softly kick his side. Your little droid stops his yapping immediately. 

"How'd you find him?" he asks you, bending down to inspect the behaved droid. Your muscles clench. 

"My husband gave him to me," you say. You realize that it's the truth...for once. 

"Did he find him at an outpost?" the man pets BB and your droid chirps sweetly. 

You shake your head. "I'm not sure." 

"Hmm..." the man says. He stands up, wiping his hands together before stretching one out to you. "I'm Poe Dameron."

You shake his calloused hand mechanically. "Nice to meet you." 

He waits for a moment. "And you are...?" 

The first name that pops in your head comes sputtering out of your mouth. "Lyla. Gnight. With a G." 

Poe smiles handsomely. "Well, Lyla...with a G. It was very nice to meet you." He glances down at your patient friend. "And very nice to meet you, too." 

BB sings a sweet reply and nudges your calf. 

"He really likes you," Poe says with a grin. "Droids sense the good in people." 

You can't help your lips from spreading into a faint smile. "Thank you," you mumble sheepishly. You turn on your heels, sauntering towards the two men cloaked in the shadows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Quatervois // (n.) A crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life."
> 
> // 
> 
> I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack.


	22. Jaaneman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Strategy. A promise.

"Poe Dameron...the best pilot in the Resistance." 

You circle your finger on the rim of your water glass. The cantina behind your roars with life but begins to gradually fade in the background. You've no reason to enjoy the sounds of life when yours is on the line. The culture of Tatooine makes your stomach ache. You wonder if your bones will be buried here; the thought brings acid to bubble in your throat. 

Kylo seems more relaxed than you expected. He leans in the back of his chair, one hand gripping his glass of whatever concoction he's ordered. The scent of the alcohol is strong - maybe it's straight liqueur. You've never seen Kylo drink but you're not surprised he's a dry man, his taste matching the severeness of his image. You watch him situate himself in his seat and notice how human he looks. One arm is draped around the back of the chair and his ankles cross underneath the table.

For some reason, your mouth waters at this.

"Because he's here, they'll be others..." he mumbles, bringing the glass to his lips. He takes a large drink - his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. 

Hux sits beside you, his eyes concentrating on the way his drink swirls in his mug. A film of an oil-like substance coats the top and you lift your lip in disgust. What the hell do these men drink? 

"They know we're here," he begins. He sighs and runs a hand through his windswept hair; grains of sand escape the tresses and dusts the surface of the table. "Every member of the Resistance has been educated on our faces, our backgrounds..." he pauses, looking towards the commander beside him. He raises a ginger brow. "With the exception of Ren, of course."

You'r more irritated by this than frightened. You exhale, indignation camouflaging your expression. "What do we do? We can't leave. They'll have this planet surrounded." 

Behind you, a group of a species you don't recognize roars with laughter as they play holochess. A flickering, green creature with large, buggy eyes tosses another player from the board. The two of them dissipate, leaving the friends arguing with one another. Both you and Kylo observe them for a moment, a smile threatening before remembering the situation at hand. 

"We wait," Kylo says, penetrating the brisk silence between the three of you.

At this, Hux lowers his brows. "Has the heat gone to your head, Ren?"

The commander, eyes darkening, stares into the general's very core. "Do you have a better idea?" 

Hux rolls his eyes, taking another swig of his grimy drink. Part of you desperately wants to ask him what he's ordered, your curiosity overwhelming. _Gods_ , you think. _Am I really concerned about the damn drink_? 

You shake your head, clearing the trivial interest in Hux's order. "He's right," you say. "There's nothing more we can do." 

Hux straightens in his seat, looking appalled. "Ridiculous," he scoffs before turning to Kylo. "You of all people refusing to fight." 

The knight ignores him, continuing to watch the game of holochess, though his eyes are far away. You swear you can see his scrutiny develop a sense of melancholy. The vibrations from him are cold, though a hint of something you've never felt from him overwhelms your senses. 

It's homesickness. 

Your eyebrows knit together and your gaze upon him softens. Hux must notice this because he mumbles something incoherent under his breath; he leaves the table without another word, pushing BB out of his way. The little droid beeps angrily at him before slipping into rest mode once more. 

The general is out of hearing distance when Kylo says, "You're not drinking." 

You look up to find his expression softening, all traces of longing disappearing from his cooling, dark eyes. "Yes I am," you reply, taking a sip of your water. 

Kylo relaxes more into his seat, his finger twirling the rim of his glass just as you had before. He looks up at you through his lashes before saying, "You know what I mean."

Your shoulders raise. "Just for precaution," you tell him honestly. Your voice is low and quiet, afraid that you might be right.

"So you do think you're pregnant," the commander points out. He doesn't leave your gaze while he drinks, eyes stern and intimidating. You gulp. 

"What that woman said earlier made me..." you stop short, deciding not to continue. 

The stillness between the two of you makes you uncomfortable. You know he knows because he watches you intensely. Under the heat of his knowledge, you tear your eyes away from him before you whisper, "I'm afraid." 

He nods. "You're afraid you'll loose the child." 

A large lump forms in your throat. You wish you _could_ drink; anxiety begins to inundate your entire body. You decide not to speak, confident that your voice will break. You hated crying in front of him and have only done it twice - once when you lost your child and the other when you sobbed in your sleep because of it. 

Kylo suddenly says very assertively, "We won't let that happen."

You open your mouth to protest but he stops you with a growl. 

"We won't let that happen," he repeats.

Your eyes water, nose tickling from oncoming tears. Dammit all to hell, if you cried in front of him you'd never forgive yourself. But before saltwater can escape your tear ducts, the commander in front of you tenses and makes a groveling noise in his throat. 

"Traitor." 

At first, you think he's talking to you. Your body grows cold and your heart stops for a moment before you realize he's referring to a man across the room. You know this face - the face of a rogue stormtrooper, the pariah of the First Order. You notice the concealed blaster at his hip and turn your eyes away from him carefully. Kylo, however, continues to watch him like a hawk, his eyes telling you he's calculating every move. 

"What do we do?" you ask him, hands gripping your glass. 

Kylo immediately replies, "Leave." 

Your legs shake as they stand and you lift your hood to cover your face. Kylo does as well and grips your forearm with a sense of urgency.

"Come on, BB." You tap the droid with your foot. BB awakens from his sleep, his lights fading from orange to white. He chirps quietly and begins to roll his way towards you.

The three of you dodge Tatooine's drunk civilians and even BB recognizes the fragility of the situation. He makes no noise and you keep a hand on his head, afraid you might loose him.

It's when you've almost exited the cantina that you notice FN-2187 and a group of obvious Resistance members following you. Kylo keeps a firm grip on your arm, aware of the stalking group heading towards you. Despite this, the three of you keep your eyes forward in silence. 

The tepid air of Tatooine greets you with a sweep of wind. Your hair falls out of your hood and sand threatens to cloud your vision. Beside you, BB begins to beep, his tone concerned. 

You realize then that you're missing someone.

"Where's Hux?" you ask Kylo, voice low. The group continues to follow close behind. 

Kylo doesn't look at you and instead keeps his eyes on the path ahead. You notice the redheaded prostitute from before chatting with a human male; she laughs dramatically in the night.

"Don't care," your companion mumbles. 

You sense the group coming closer. "Well, I do." 

Kylo ignores this, but his hand on your arm softens at your reply. 

Your breath comes out in short spurts. BB rolls close to your legs and says something dejectedly. You recognize a few words: _afraid_ is one of them. You wish you could tell him it's going to be alright but you're unsure of the outcome. You wouldn't lie to BB - you couldn't. 

The three of you walk towards an alleyway. You're shielded between two buildings now and the only light revealing the exit is the two moons in the sky. The path becomes more narrow until you realize...it's a dead end. 

"Do we fight?" you ask. Your fists clench. 

"No," Kylo answers. You're almost to the end now. 

You're shocked. Your heart thumps wildly. "Why not?" 

"Not in your condition," he answers. Only a few more feet to go. BB is becoming more restless - instead of softer chirps, his voice is raising and his lights are now red.

You shake your head. "Do we run?" you ask, desperate of an escape. You realize what he's implying. He can't...he _won't_...

"No," he replies. "We surrender."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jaaneman // (n.) (phr.) lit. "soul of me"." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Hey guys! This chapter is SUPER short but a transition into the next. Kylo is a bit O/C because I'm trying to familiarize myself with him again (long hiatuses tend to do that...unfortunately.) Does anybody have any requests for upcoming chapters? Anything you'd like to see? 
> 
> ♡♡


	23. Kakistocracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A general and an ambassador walk into an interrogation room...

You were no stranger to judgmental eyes but the ones following you now were more intense than usual. Resistance members, clad in their class uniforms, gawked at you as you were escorted to the interrogation room. A few of them booed, a handful hissed, but they mostly stared in silence, mouths hollowed with empty misconceptions.

The man who held your arm was shorter but held himself with grandeur. He was muscular, dark haired, pale, poised, cocky…everything you imagined a Resistance fighter would be. During the walk, he didn’t speak a word to you and kept his eyes focused on the distance between you and your destination.

You didn’t dare ask questions, mostly because you knew the answers. You were to be interrogated by whatever top official was on base and maybe bartered with. Someone was going to be the bait and you’d decided the moment you were forced into the ship that it wouldn’t be you.

D’Qar is a planet on the outer rim territories. It’s a green world and rather humid, bearing the life of thousands of woodland animals who bathe in swamps and climb trees. You were so familiar with tropical and oceanic planets that it was a surprise to see so many different species of _trees_. The fields of Yanni grew saturated flowers and the majority of the planet was water. In short, D’Qar was a strange land and every detail of it was foreign. You wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but in truth, you were frightened…just a little.

The stocky guard tossed you by the elbow into a rather sterile room. He left you in silence, no epilogue to inform you of your upcoming questionnaire. You sigh and inspect your surroundings, bits of doubt weaving into the crevices of your brain. The tragic thought suddenly shouted in your mind:

_What if you never left this base?_

You take a deep breath and walk towards a walled mirror in front of you. Strange, though a little obvious. You press a finger against it and find your finger immediately meets the glass with no obvious separation. You knock your knuckles against it, just for precaution, and the noise is hollow and reverberating.

Smart, but not enough to fool you.

The room is brightly lit and the whiteness of the four walls surrounding you is blinding. Resistance bases are so much lighter than the First Orders. You find yourself squinting towards the glass but decide to turn away; you didn’t want them knowing you knew. After all, they probably planned this for _a while_ now.

Fortunately, a voice calls your title over a speaker. It’s louder than you expected and you cringe, raising an eyebrow. “Ambassador,” the voice says. It’s a woman. “Welcome.”

You clear your throat, your status coating your tone. “I’d appreciate it if we skipped the theatrics and, instead, started with the interrogation.”

A silence from the speaker. Finally, she begins again after a momentary pause. “Alright then. If that’s what you want.”

The woman sounds older and you tilt your head at this, information you’ve collected over the years flashing through your conscious like a fighter jet. You close your eyes, concentrating on the way the voice sounds so maternal, so cautious, and so familiar.

“You’re ambassador of the First Order,” the woman says.

You walk towards the mirror again, every step like a predatory stride. “Correct,” you reply, hands snaking behind your back.

“Ambassador _Ren_.”

Once reaching the mirror, you watch your reflection. Your eyes are heavy and the bags underneath them are blossoming into a violet hue. Gods, you’re tired. Your hair is ratted and your mouth is severely dry; swallowing takes a lot of effort. Miraculously enough, you manage to compose yourself as the ambassador you really are; ruthless and reserved.

Ah, the narcissism is strong within you. You feel the dark side beginning to creep deeper into your skull, its taunting visions of anger and revenge dulling the atmosphere around you. You try very hard to control it, your anger, but you deem it impossible now.

It’ll have to do for the time being.

“How did you receive that title? Ambassador _Ren_.”

You tap your fingers against your spine, staring into the glass and past your reflection. “Through courtship.”

“With Kylo Ren?”

You barely nod. “Correct.”

The voice sounds more interested now, her tone piquing with obvious curiosity. If you’re being honest, you really don’t blame whoever this is of being skeptical; you can hardly believe it yourself.

“Is he your commander?” The question is thrown into the void - an insinuation: Kylo Ren is incapable of attachment. Everyone knows that; he’s done a great job of making it gospel.

“And husband.” You tilt your head. “Does that surprise you?”

The woman stops speaking and (from what you can tell) breathing. You swear you can hear the gears in her mind turn and peddle backwards. She decides to go on instead about something else entirely.

You can almost hear the shame clouding her tone.

“Tell me about your duties as ambassador,” she says, voice lower than before and all signs of interest dissolving immediately.

You smirk a little in the mirror but it wears off after a millisecond. “I think you know my duties as a politician, general, when you are one yourself.”

Another intolerable length of silence. You find yourself growing impatient before the glass of the mirror becomes translucent.

Before you is a grey haired woman with a braid atop her head. She’s clothed in uniform, though the only proof of her status as general is her posture. She smiles a bit, sardonically maybe, before leaning into the speaker.

“You’ve heard of me,” she says.

You shake your head. “No. I recognize you.”

She seems confused. Her eyes crinkle and her crow’s feet intensify. She’s beautiful, you wouldn’t deny that, and her power radiates from all corners of the base. She is truly a vison.

“I’ve never met you in my life,” she replies.

You say, “ _He dreams about you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kakistocracy // (n.) A government by the least qualified, most stupid members."
> 
> // 
> 
> GUYS,   
> I KNOW THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT BUT IT'S IMPORTANT. BEAR WITH ME.   
> Don't worry; Kylo is in the next chapter.   
> And he's pissed.


	24. Eleutheromania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: An examination. Kylo's pissed.

The conversation immediately ended after that. The general, very abruptly, stood from her seat, watched you with solemn eyes, and finally sauntered out of the room. You were left staring into an empty window of a taciturn and foreign base. Your body was lacking the energy to be angry now, as her presence had taken a toll on your mental capacity.

Leia Organa is a difficult woman; you’ve known this for as long as you can remember. But the stories you’ve heard from whispers of your elders could never prepare you for the incubating effect she had. The energy that seethed from her was something familiar – an energy you’ve felt, occasionally, pulsate from your husband.

Her snark is something to behold. She’s kind, it’s true, but you know she throws a mean punch when necessary. You’d always assumed Kylo got his cynicism from his father, and while this may still be true, it’s also becoming very apparent that Leia has something to do with his dry sense of humor and (dare you say it?) poise.

You’re staring at the ceiling, sitting cross legged on the durasteel floor, when the doors open with a loud clatter. In walks two men, one of them is the burly guard from before.

“You’re due for a physical examination,” the unfamiliar one says. He’s fair-haired and lanky with pretty, clean, blue eyes.

Refusing to budge from your positon, you ask, “Why?”

The man beside him retorts in a harsh tone, “It’s required for all arrivals on the base.”

Ah, right. In case you’d contracted an alien disease that could very well spread throughout the base. How convenient would it be for the enemy to distribute an infection that could hinder, or kill, half the Resistance?

You supposed you couldn’t blame them. The First Order really should do the same; it’s been a practice for eons and a reliable one too. You recall your father signing the executive order that civilians and visitors be tested of fatal diseases. It worked. The death toll in Baleine plummeted afterwards and cinched a second term for your father.

The thought of home puts a tangled mess of feelings into your belly. To ignore it, you stand and follow the two guards.

 

* * *

 

 The medbay is just as bright as the interrogation room was. You’re convinced they’re trying to blind you.

Your doctor is female – human. She’s a brunette with black eyes and freckles sprinkled along her rosy cheeks. Her mouth is in the shape of a tulip and she bears the privilege of long lashes. She introduces herself as “Doctor Joi”.

You immediately notice that Dr. Joi is very good at her job because you don’t feel a thing when she jabs you with a needle. She explains, in science, what the pink liquid now inoculating through your veins was. You didn’t catch any of it.

Now awaiting results from a urine test, you cross your ankles around each other and situate the itchy, hospital gown around your chest.

A timer beeps and Dr. Joi heads towards something that looks somewhat like a favia machine. She takes out the beaker sample of your urine ( _gross_ ) and tosses it into a sterilization tub.

She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow, inspecting the results on the screen of the machine. You can’t see it, and even if you could, you wouldn’t know where to begin to make sense of it.

“Looks like you’re pregnant,” she says frankly.

Your body becomes warm. The feeling in your legs has dissipated with your grasp on reality. You blink a couple of times. “What?”

“You’re actually very pregnant. I mean, you’re not far along at all.” Dr. Joi turns off her ‘pee machine’ and faces you with serious caution. “When was the last time you had intercourse?”

You shift uncomfortably. “A week or so.” An indifferent pause. “I thought it wasn’t possible to tell this early.”

Dr. Joi grabs a chair and scoots towards you. “Our tests are very precise. We can detect pregnancy very early these days.” She situates between your legs and pats your knee gently. “Lie down.”

You do so, though gingerly. Gynecologist exams are always awkward for you.

Dr. Joi begins to poke around and you’re beginning to feel awfully uncomfortable. The only people who’s seen your vagina (aside from the doctor who delivered you and your childhood nurse – practically your mother) is Kylo and yourself.

You flinch when a cold, metal object meets your skin.

“Sorry, should’ve warned you,” Dr. Joi drones, busy with her work. “Anyway, you’ve got birthing hips. Seems as though you were made to carry babies.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. _No_. “I’ve had a miscarriage.”

Dr. Joi stills and you feel her hands pause. “You have?”

When you don’t answer she just sighs and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

It’s silent for a few minutes after that, the gauche and intimate reveal hanging in the air like a fog. You try to focus on the ceiling, distracting yourself from the awkward prying below you. You wonder if you should ask her… _are you eligible for another_? Would your body (to put it simply) _fail_ you again?

Finally, Dr. Joi pulls away and tears off her gloves. As she heads towards the sanitation sink she says, “The father should know. I’ll have General Organa set up a meeting with the two of you.”

You raise a brow and sit up, your hands gripping the sides of the examination table. “Is that possible?”

Dr. Joi tilts her head to the side, watching suds of soap run through her fingers. “No,” she replies. She rinses her hands. “But I’ll make it so.”

You bow your head gently. “Thank you,” you whisper. You can’t imagine how questionable it must be for her to keep neutral in such a situation. Her job was to care for her patients, despite their associations. How impossible it would have been for you to provide for a Resistance member!

Dr. Joi just nods at you, a smile threatening to quiver before she decides against it.

 

* * *

 

 He was in maximum security, twelve stories under the Resistance base and encased in steel. The unit was cold, though well lit. You wondered then how his mother could allow this.

The grip on your arm was repressive, sending you into a lift that would lead you underneath the ground and into the prison. Your fists, clenched at your sides, began to turn white and your knuckles burned at the intensity. Eyes closed and heart thumping, the overwhelming fury circulated in your chest like an infection.

You arrive to his enclosure. He is like a creature on display. Glass separates you from his outburst. He slams his fists against the window, desperate to be free. He wasn’t crying – he was _fuming_. Veins shown vividly against his neck as he screamed dreadfully. The darkness clouding his person encased you and your lungs; your surroundings became fatally electric.

Without a word at your arrival, without a _glance_ , he stops. His eyes, now crimson red, darted towards you and then at the fist clenching your forearm. His nostrils flared.

The guard released you and waited at the edge of the room. You were free to confront the knight.

You didn’t speak to him – not audibly. Your eyes traveled along his form. He was clothed in his robes from Tatooine which were dirty and unkempt. Dark, vicious circles had formed under his eyes. The two of you remained silent, but his mind was churning with anger, fear, and adrenaline.

_I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all. I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands. They’ll suffer like I have. I swear with every breath in me, they will pay for what they’ve done. I want to murder, I want to kill, I want to mutilate. I need to be free, I need to let go, I need to –_

Then you whisper, with tender thought: _I’m pregnant_.

His thoughts, they defrost. His eyes cool, the crimson in them fading dramatically until they’re back to their original tone. You feel the air crackle, the electricity dissolving in the air until it’s replaced with softness.

He speaks, out into the void: _How do you know_?

_I was examined._

Kylo’s shoulders, they relax. You put your hand against the glass but low enough so that the guard cannot see.

 _I know you can’t._ Your fists clench and slid against the window. _I need you. With me._

His lips snarl, though not at you. He looks towards the guard sauntering towards you. When the man reaches you, the echo of Kylo’s fists against the glass startles the both of you.

The guard didn’t need an explanation.

 

* * *

 

Leia Organa stood before the security camera, her gaze fixated on her son. She noticed the way he unstiffened around you and how his temper fizzled into thin air at your presence. Her head titled to the side, her lips quirking into a little smile when your hand reached for him.

The woman beside her, a blonde with perfect buns at the side of her head, said to the general, “They aren’t speaking to one another.”

To which Leia Organa, mother of the man in the glass, replied, “Yes, they are.”

 

* * *

 

 

An alarm rang through your ears just as your hand dropped from the window. The lift locked itself, the doors sliding shut with a powerful bang.

Your mouth bended into a smirk.

_Hux._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eleutheromania // (n.) an intense and irresistible desire for freedom." 
> 
> // 
> 
> My favorite so far. I'm SO DAMN STOKED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER. 
> 
> Everyone, I love you so much. I never, in my life, thought I'd get to 6k hits. Amazing.
> 
> Follow my Tumblr!! // AstraPadme


	25. Accismus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I look inside myself and see my heart is black." -Paint It Black // The Rolling Stones

_Hux._

Adrenaline spikes through your veins and twists your belly in excitement; to act quickly is of severe importance. Your immediate reaction is to turn towards the guard who is currently thrashing his fists against the lift doors. The gun at his side dangles against his hip.

Your hand raises and his weapon easily escapes from his holster and into your palm. You grip the handle of the blaster and point it in his direction.

“What’s the code?” You nod towards the silver keypad plugged into the cell. When the guard doesn’t answer, your voice raises. “Tell me or I’ll force it out of you!”

The man doesn’t budge. He lifts his chin in defiance, green eyes boring holes into yours. The blaster recoils in your hand and emits a smell of heated steel. His food has been destroyed, a hole blazes with smoke in the top of his shoe.

“ ** _Tell me_**!” Your throat burns from the scream. Kylo raises his brows in the corner of your eye, a smirk tilting his mouth.

 _Impressive,_ he says

You smile sweetly at him. _Thank you._

The guard, yelping in pain, has collapsed into a fetal position. His forehead breaks out into a sweat and he’s fading from the agony. “1913!” he shouts, a spittle hanging from his lips. He grits his teeth. “Fuck you, you piece of -!”

You’ve shot him in the head before he can finish. His body lies against the durasteel floor, mouth still open and wounds fresh. You kick his boot for the hell of it. Dead as a doornail.

“Sexy,” Kylo remarks.

You say, “I know,” and shove the blaster in your boot.

The code turns out to be correct – the guard was telling the truth. How very brave of him. The glass of the cell slides upwards, letting Kylo free.

He starts for you, boots echoing against the walls; the sound excites you. You open your mouth to say something (part of you wanted to declare “ _I love you_ ”) but he grabs you by the neck and entraps your lips with his. It’s feral - desperate. His tongue dances with yours, his fingers fisting the tresses of your hair. Your fingers have fanned the side of his face, holding him tightly.

You pull back for breath. “Didn’t hesitate,” you pant with half-lidded eyes.

The hem of your shirt is grasped in his hands. “Never do,” he mumbles.

It’s then that General Hux and two Stormtroopers enter the scene. The gingered official looks a bit disheveled in the eyes, though he’s back in his pressed uniform. The troopers at his sides hold their blasters firmly against their stomachs, prepared for anything.

Hux clears his throat. “Let’s go. There’s no time to waste.” He motions to the lift with a gloved hand, expression blasé by the sight of your embrace.

 

* * *

 

 Kylo is escorting you into the hangar where the command shuttle waits. The open air around you is being shelled with blaster shots. Bits of green and red swirl around your head like angry fireflies.

The shuttle is close in range when you hear General Organa’s voice reverberate through the hangar, her voice pleading and shrill.

“Ben!” she screams above the noise.

It feels as though all time has ceased to exist. Suddenly, the blasters bulleting towards you seem slower. You know, of course, that this isn’t a real perception, as Hux is demanding you to step onto the ramp. But Kylo has turned around, his eyes searching for his mother and you cannot help but freeze when he does.

The general stands in the midst of the skirmish, vulnerable to the obvious dangers. She gazes towards her son, arms limp at her sides; from here you can see her body shake with silent tears.

“Kylo,” you whisper to him.

The fight continues on in the background but his legs have become immobile. The leather of his gloves tightens as he stretches his fists; the conflict within him is as strong as ever and it chills your bones.

You place a hand on his arm. “Kylo, please,” you urge.

Gods, you wished he could. You really do. But you couldn’t risk the death of another child. The fight is becoming more concentrated. In the corner of your eye you see a Stormtrooper activate a flamethrower.

The intensity of his dusky eyes has returned. He presses you into the command shuttle and, without looking back at his mother, returns to the darkness.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " Accismus // (n.) Feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it. " 
> 
> // 
> 
> WOW, THIS CHAPTER IS SUPER SHORT. BUUUUUUT because of this, I'll be able to get a fresh start on the new one very, very soon.


	26. Melons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Phasma, cravings, and back rubs.

_**Three Months Later** _

 

* * *

 

 

“C-50?”

The silver protocol droid immediately answers your call, his loyalty trait obviously functioning perfectly. He enters the main room of your quarters with a mechanical creak, wires twisting each time he fumbles with his arms.

“Yes, ambassador?” he asks kindly.

You say, “If BB wakes up tell him I’m in the cafeteria; I’m craving a bowl of fruit.” You start for the black and velvet coat draped along the back of the couch.

“Yes, ambassador,” he says and then pauses. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to order it for you?” His voice raises with concern. For the past few months, C-50 has kept a keen eye on your state of health. It’s sweet but unnecessary, though you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“No thank you. Need to stretch my legs,” you reply.

The faithful droid barely nods and says, “Very well.”

You leave the quarters after glancing at BB on his charging pad one last time. His battery has been completely drained after staying up with you for almost fourteen hours. Despite the exhaustion depleting you of energy, you’ve had trouble sleeping – and that was putting it generously. He sits beside you while you busy yourself with your duties or scan your datapad for messages.

It’s been tedious being pregnant, especially since your line of work hasn’t been very demanding. Ever since the coup, the business is repetitive. Baleine has been reclusive ever since the incident; they haven’t even bothered requesting your guidance with Yabbai. Besides being bored of their distance, it pissed you off. After all, Baleine was your home planet and they were treating you thus? Ridiculous.

You sigh while entering the cafeteria. No one is here considering the hour; the cycle has kept everyone at their work stations.

You’ll be honest; if there was one thing you enjoyed most about being ambassador it was the full access you had to the kitchen. The availability of the cafeteria was one of many perks but it’s been your lifesaver for the past three months. Your cravings have been rampant – you wanted to eat everything all the time. Fats, carbs, sweets, fruit. Oh, fruit. _All of the fruit_.

The freezer full of melons and squabbas made your mouth water. When you open it, a thin cloud of vapor hit your face, the frost chilling your bones. Immediately the smell of sweet pears and other juices filled your nostrils.

Just as you were about to reach for a red melon, the door of the kitchen opens. You freeze, melon gripped in your palm.

“Oh, hello ambassador.”

You turn and find a silver helmet pointed in your direction. The infamous captain stands firmly with a blaster at her hip.

“Oh, Captain Phasma.” You put down the fruit.

“Please, continue. I was just fetching something to drink.” She reaches for her helmet.

You’ve seen Phasma with her helmet off before but the female underneath her chrome armor never fails to amaze you. Her chopped, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes makes you feel a bit tender inside.

The captain slips off her helmet and places it on the durasteel cabinet beside her. (She’s totally showing off. With her height, it’s completely possible to reach that.) You shift in your stance, suddenly very aware of your humble stature.

You grab the melon again and finally shut the freezer’s hatch. “Been a long day, captain?” you ask her, taking a seat on the floor.

She watches you slip to the tile of the kitchen floor and you don’t blame her for the shocked glimmer in her expression when you do. But your feet are tired and you’re too damn pregnant to care about the dirt underneath your butt.

The blonde woman nods a bit and fetches a jar of water from the fridge. She has to lean over you in order to do so and you let her, comfortable with her presence. Phasma is pleasant company and, from what you’ve gathered, a kind person.

After taking a sip she motions to the table in the center of the kitchen. “Do you mind if I…?”

You nod. “Please. I’d enjoy conversation with someone who didn’t have a mechanism.”

You see her grin just slightly before leaning against the table. As she sips her drink and you nibble on the melon in your palm, you survey her build. You wonder if she’s slender or if she’s, you know, _ripped_. You couldn’t be sure. Phasma seems very feminine despite her chrome exterior. Her eyes are also very bright.

Gods, are you attracted to Phasma?

Suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. You shift a bit in your complicated pretzel on the floor and pick at the fuzz of the melon.

“May I ask how far along you are?”

You glance up from your (suddenly, very intriguing) piece of fruit. You force a smile. “Three months,” you tell her. “I shouldn’t be this big.”

At this, you glance at your belly. You know there’s more than one in there. Your stomach protrudes out ridiculously for thirteen weeks and you’re starting to waddle; the confident swagger you walked four months ago has disappeared completely.

“Do you think it’s twins?” she asks, taking another sip.

You purse your lips. “Maybe.” Your mind recalls the woman from the market in Mos Eisley.

Phasma doesn’t say much after that. The two of you remain pretty silent apart from the occasional clearing of a throat or Phasma unscrewing the lid of her water. After about ten more minutes, the towering captain tosses the empty jar in a bin.

“It was a pleasure talking to you, ambassador.” Phasma says, a smile ghosting on her lips. She grabs her helmet from the cabinet and tucks it underneath her arm. “Have a good rest of the cycle.”

You smile at her, fingering the surface of the melon some more. “Thank you, captain. You as well.”

She bows just slightly before placing the helmet back on her head. Then she disappears from the kitchen with a military-like strut.

              

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kylo tries not to work too late these days. He knows you’re lonesome and, above all, rigid. He understands the only company you really keep are two droids – one of whom you barely understand and the other you mostly just boss around.

When he walks through the doors of the quarters you’re lying on the bed, back against the mattress because you can’t sleep on your belly anymore. You barely turn your chin at him but you smile warmly.

“Hi,” you say.

Kylo lifts his hands to his helmet and tosses it to the ground, per usual. You’d have to get him to stop doing that – you’ve tripped over it too many times.

When his face is revealed, butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Hi,” he echoes, his voice tired. He saunters towards you, leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips, and sits on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.

One of your hands reach out to snake around his neck. You gently rub the top of his spine and he relaxes in your grip, his back softening against your fingers. “How was your day?” you ask him while kneading. The lack of sleep makes a rather obvious appearance in your tone.

Kylo kicks both of his boots off. “Uneventful,” he replies vacantly. “Hux wasn’t around much today.”

“Ah,” you say. “A nice change of pace.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment in his throat. “And you?”

You release a sigh and flop against the mattress again. “I spoke with Captain Phasma.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

You nod. “Yes. She’s nice. I like her.”

Kylo doesn’t answer right away. He continues to shed his uniform until he’s bare naked. He reaches for a pair of night pants you’ve laid out for him. “Where did you see her?”

You say, “In the kitchen. I wanted a melon.”

He smirks while slipping on the pants. “Of course you did. What did you discuss?”

“She asked how far along I was.” You press a hand to your lower back and groan. “Gods, I’m already sick of this.” You say this last part with a whimper.

Kylo reaches for your hand. You inspect it with a pair of narrowing eyes.

He juts his hand out some more. “Come on.”

You take it with a sigh. He twists you and sets you in his lap. The two of you are seated in the center of the bed and his hands wrap around your shoulders. He begins to rolls his palms against your tendons.

You purr in delight. “ _Thank. You_.”

He kisses the hollow of your neck. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this chapter is so boring. I'm so sorry. I needed to update and get some writing out of the way. Thanks for being patient. I LOVE ALL OF YOU!


	27. Vapor Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the reality of the situation: reader is three months pregnant and is suffering from a cold. 
> 
> CONTAINS: A natural treatment from Baleine and Kylo's beginning as a new role.

Your mother didn’t really care much about you.

You’ve been led to believe this for years. Though she hadn’t said this to you upfront (or at all), you knew. She wouldn’t have left the way she did. _Especially_ the way she did.

You’re in the tub when it happens. An image you hadn’t seen in years – the face of a woman you tried to forget, to block out like a repressive memory. Her long, black hair, curly and sleek, cascading down the center of her back. She wore fine clothing made of brightly tinted silk and a headdress upon her head.

Queen Sabbai of Baleine. Your eyes close and you focus on her face, despite your indifference towards her. You had almost forgotten what she’d looked like. She was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, and her eyes told ghost stories – deep, almost black, and almond shaped.

She carried you in her womb for nine months. She molded you (for a while) into the woman you are today. You’d like to think she had _some_ sort of decency but you remembered her sense of apathy towards the First Order; if she knew of your position she’d disown you all over again.

How could a mother leave her child? You hadn’t ever considered the cruelness until now. Your hands reach for your swollen belly and you sink a bit lower into the tub.

“I’ll never leave you,” you whisper to the protruding bump.

It’s then that Nyx walks in, washcloth in hand. She places it against your forehead and sighs, dabbing the wetness against your temple. You cough loudly, red-faced, and with running nose. The vibrant and therapeutic flowers dancing along the surface of the water fills your nostrils with a sharp but calming scent. Though it did help your sinuses, you continued to cough relentlessly.

“Nyx.” Your voice cracks on account of your current state of health.

She makes a noise in acknowledgment. “Yes, milady?”

You cup your hands and let the water settle in your palms. A flower pulls itself into your reach and settles gently against your wrist. “Is there anything on the schedule today? Other than the appointment, of course.”

Nyx shakes her head. “No, milady.”

You sigh. “It’s been rather boring around here lately, hasn’t it?”

“Forgive me, but with your condition, maybe this is a good thing.” She dips the washcloth into the tub and places it against your neck. The aroma from the flower petals tingles your skin and releases some tension.

“I’m pregnant – not dying,” you remind her. You pick at a lone, crimson petal. It’s silky against your fingers and you’re left with a red dye on the pad of your thumb.

“Yes, but you’ve had this cold for a week now.” Nyx wrings out the cloth while you continue to cough some more, lungs aching and body violently lurching forward. Nyx watches you in concern, eyebrows furrowing, while draping the rag over the side of the tub.

You lean your head back into the water. “A body at rest stays at rest, Nyx. I can’t afford to stop working.”

Your maiden doesn’t say anything. One of her hands, long and delicate, reaches out to test your forehead. “You still have a fever.”

A groan escapes your lips, though you’re still thinking about the lack of excitement throughout the base. You needed something to work on – _anything_. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and have another coup.”

Nyx gapes at you, hand still resting against your head. “Milady,” she says in awe.

You smirk a little. “It was a joke.” You pause. “Kind of.”

“Don’t say such things. Isn’t carrying a child enough work?” she retracts her hand and reaches into the basket at the side of the tub before sprinkling more flowers into the water.

Yes, she was right, but you were too stubborn to admit it. Of course growing a child in your belly was exhausting – you could rarely get a decent night’s rest. And to make matters worse, Kylo had been flopping like a fish in bed (as though not being able to sleep on your stomach wasn’t enough). You were craving all sorts of meat, which was very unlike you, and your stomach was ballooning rapidly.

In short, you _were_ suffering.

You’re about to reply to Nyx, enjoying the conversation (whether it looked it or not), when you felt Kylo’s force impression. He was awake now. Not long after that, while Nyx went back to dab at your forehead, you heard the knight shuffling around in the main room.

“Nyx,” you start. “The commander is awake. I’d like to speak to him…alone.”

She nods and wrings out the cloth again. “Yes, milady,” she replies.

Kylo enters the doorway but he’s changed from his nightclothes into his under armor (most likely because of Nyx’s presence). She tilts her head in submission while scooting her away past him.

“Commander,” she mumbles.

The knight nods at her, a sign of respect. Kylo liked Nyx enough to speak to her on more than one occasion. You hoped it was because she took such good care of you but you couldn’t be sure.

He leans against the doorframe and watches as you take a handful of flowers into your fist. Your eyes turn to his while you let the petals slip from your fingers.

“What?” you ask him, watching as the flowers drop to the water.

You hear him come closer, though your eyes are downwards at your naked legs. He stands in front of the tub, now supporting himself on the sink before you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you.

The question takes you by surprise. How did he know…?

“What do you mean?” you decide to say. Your finger makes a spiral in the water.

“I can tell you’re nervous. I sense it.”

You shrug. The vision of your mother bothered you, yes, but there was a matter more pressing nagging at your conscious. It had been worrying you for months now but you’d managed to block your thoughts from him; you were too tired to try now. 

That’s what you get for letting your guard down, you supposed.

“I’m afraid,” you mumble.

You were. You were afraid of Snoke. You look down at your belly. The skin tightening your form into a bulging oval reminded you of a possibility that you were sure of. The reality of the situation was this: Snoke wanted a male.

He might as well have owned your unborn child.

“Why?” Kylo asks. His voice is softer but still level. Lately, he’d managed to stay calm in situations like these. Ever since you’ve been pregnant, his tantrums have settled down; he only had a couple a week now.

You look at him through your lashes. “What if it’s a girl? Will you be disappointed?”

He freezes, mulling over the question for longer than necessary. His eyebrows crinkle in the center of his forehead before saying in a very low voice, “Snoke will b…”

You cut him off. “That’s not what I asked.”

Kylo takes a deep breath. You’re beginning to wonder if you really know him at all before he steps forward and leans down on one knee beside the tub.

He takes your cheeks into his hands. “I will love her just as much as I would love a son.”

It was something one shouldn’t (exactly) be _thrilled_ to hear considering it was the human thing to say. But the gesture made your eyes prickle with tears (granted, everything did these days).

“He acts as though it’s a monarchy,” you sniffle. It’s not from your cold.

Kylo remains still for a moment. “That’s because it is.”

You shake your head. “It’s not.”

The two of you are silent. You can’t take this. You don’t have enough strength. You begin to cough and it’s so intense that your back cracks when you do. Kylo looks concerned, his eyes flickering from your chest to your belly.

You take a deep breath when finished, leaning your head against the tub again, and changing the subject. “How about a wager?”

Kylo snaps out of a trance, his cautious eyes finding yours. “What?”

“A wager. What do you think it’ll be?”

The knight shrugs his big shoulders. “I’m not sure. I can’t sense it.”

You shake your head. “Me either. It frightens me.” You’re referring to the force imprint of your child, of course. Every time you try to concentrate on its vibration, you’re left with static. It’s as though he or she’s stopping you.

You imagine them saying, “ _Mind your own business, mom_.” You smirk to yourself, picturing the way the child would react to such a situation.

“I wonder…” you muse. “I wonder if they’ll have your hair.”

Kylo allows a smirk. “And your snark?”

You place a hand against your heart, astounded. “ _My_ snark?”

He nods. “Yes. _Your_ snark.”

“I’m offended. If anyone is snarky, it’s _you_.” A laugh escapes your lips, but once it does, you cough violently again.

“Well then, what do you think it’ll get from you?” he asks, placing a gloveless hand in the water. A flower sticks to his skin like it had with yours. “If you’re not snarky?”

You lower your eyebrows at him, considering the possibilities. “I’m not sure. What do you think?”

“Besides the snark?”

“Obviously.”

He contemplates this. Then it hits him, though he seems hesitant to say (he’s hiding a smile). “The way you walk into a room. The power. The ethics.”

His eyes go soft when he says this and so do your bones.

But before you can respond, you sense another body in the quarters.

It’s the medic.

Kylo notices as well. He looks towards the bathroom door and then back at you. “Are you ready?” he asks vigilantly.

You nod. “Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow. 
> 
> I found out recently that LOR is number fourteen on the most hits for kylo x reader??? Wow. Amazing. I love you guys??? 
> 
> More apologizes: I'm sorry I haven't been able to update as quickly as I can. I've been drained (I have a cold and that's why you do too LOL). 
> 
> Trying my best here. Your messages make my day. 
> 
> Next chapter you'll find out something VERY, VERY COOL.


	28. The Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " My soul and the Force entwine. "

**Three years before**  
  


* * *

_The Earth did not move._

_But your mouth quivered._  
  
_The click of her heels declared her stately arrival. Despite her incoming fate, her chin was raised high in contempt. She stepped with poise upon the platform._  
  
_The people were silent._  
  
_As she gazed out into the audience, her black eyes met yours. Her maternal instincts had found you in the midst of the crowd. Even then, her disappointment shown in her expression. An icy stare latched upon your intestines and gripped you fiercely._  
  
_She would be executed by her own saber._  
  
_One more step forward; it would be her last. They gave her no cloak, no headdress, and no jewels. She was a common civilian now – she would not die a queen. There was no grant of confession and, as the executor (clad in black, donning Baeline mourning attire) stepped near, he did not ask for her forgiveness._  
  
_There, upon the stage, she uttered her last words. Six, to be exact, and the undertaker disregarded caution. Ghostly whispers hung in the air and the space around you seized._  
  
_“My soul and the Force entwine.”_  
  
_A mechanical squeal sounded about the coliseum. There was a blur of emerald light._  
  
_A howl spurted from your lips._

* * *

The medic examined the hologram above you. It was impossible to read. 

The woman’s mouth raised into a smile.  
  
“Ambassador,” she whispered in awe. “There are _three_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be short, blunt, and to the point.


	29. Aquiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Crying. But in a good way.

Jaws slack.

“Three?” you ask the doctor, all your ligaments solid in place.  Was your heart beating? You couldn’t be sure.

But you realized then that it was because the hologram above you danced in jagged lines, detecting that, sure enough, your cardiovascular system was working properly. This surprised you more than you had expected. You bring a hand to your chest, feeling the slight movement beneath your palm.

Yes. You were alive.

Kylo shifts uncomfortably at the other side of the room. His vibration is…erratic, turbulent. He was nervous beyond all recognition. It was one of the rare occasions that he shed his mask in the presence of others. You didn’t even have to ask him to keep it off this time.

Anyway, he was too blurry for you to see properly. You were crying a little, tears threatening to spill out of your overwhelmed lids.

The doctor nods at your question. “Three,” she confirms. “Would you like to see them?”

You blurt out a, “Yes.”

Nyx was grasping your hand, one of her knees bent at your side. She was smiling with glee, her eyes wetting like yours. As she tightens her grip, the doctor (of whose name you haven’t caught yet) brings up a massive screen right before your eyes.

Above you, bathed in light, is a sight. One, two, three infants.

Right there. In your belly.

You reach out a quivering hand to the hologram but your fingers slip through the image. You want to tell them how beautiful they are, how loved. But the only thing that could fall out of your trembling lips, the only thing you could bear to think of, was…

“What are the sexes?”

These words aren’t forceful like you had expected but, instead, very quiet…anxious. Nyx clenches your hand tighter and the doctor raises a brow, deceptively aware of the instability of the situation. Behind you, Kylo wades in anticipation.

“Let’s see,” she says.

She clenches the holo-pad in her hands and moves the screen. Above you, the hologram mimics her actions. She must have zoomed in, because one of the fetuses becomes enlarged. She points to something you deem impossible to comprehend.

“Girl…” she says slowly.

Another fetus, this one on the right.

“Girl…”

You and Nyx clench one another’s hands, resulting in a violet palm enlarged with blood. You bite your lip, absolutely petrified of the next result. If it would be a girl, that means…

The doctor beams as she inspects the third child. With a breath of relief, she proclaims, “Boy.”

The immediate reaction was chaotic. A massive choke escapes your lungs and you sob, eyes bursting with saltwater. Mirth laced with valor soon follows. Nyx buries her head into your bosom and cries with you.

From the corner of the room, invisible fronds of warmth embrace you.

_Kylo._

The doctor shuts off the device and the hologram above you disappears swiftly. “That’s my cue.” She smiles, bowing to your sniveling form. “Congratulations, ambassador.” There’s a curt nod to the figure behind you. “Commander.”

The doctor leaves.

Gods, you couldn’t comprehend it.

Calloused fingers suddenly graze your hot, damp, cheeks and the voice of a new father says, “Leave us.”

Your friend lifts her head from your chest, red faced and exhibiting a drunken smile. “Yes, commander,” she replies, traces of happiness still in her voice. “Congratulations, my lady.”

You kiss her hand once more. “Nyx.”

The moment the doors shut, the _moment_ the two of you are alone, Kylo bends down to kiss you with fervor. You hold him, though weakened with respite. Your wet lashes brush against the coolness of his nose and he makes a strange noise in his throat; it sounds raw.

Is he...

You pull away to make sure.

Yes, he is.

His dusky eyes are rimmed with pink, though he tries so very hard to control it. He purses his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the column of his neck. He was _struggling_.

“Please,” you beg. You wipe a strand of raven hair from his eyes. “Please cry.”

He watches his hands as they intertwine with yours, his long digits threading between the spaces of your fingers. He tries to avoid eye-contact.

“The Force has blessed us,” he whispers. He allows a minute grin but it fades quickly, choked by his instinct of preservation.

You take his cheeks in both of your hands. He follows suit naturally and embraces your touch. Soon you lean your forehead against his own.

You can feel his troubled breath fan against your mouth.

“Yes,” you decide. “The Force has blessed us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AQUIVER // "Quivering, trembling." 
> 
> //
> 
> WHERE HAVE I BEEN?  
> I've been working. And living my life. And I hate that I can't write as quickly as I used to. I'm so sorry this is, like, a month late.


	30. Evanescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Sap. Pure. Sap. 
> 
> Also, a decision that hurts.

You spend the rest of the night observing the molasses of his dark irises and the sparks that glint in them. He watches you without voice and barely breathes, chest only rising to fall silently. Occasionally, he reaches for your face with his nimble fingers.

The room is silent.

He brushes his knuckles against your mouth and your eyes instinctively close, lingering in his embrace. You knew what was about to happen. You knew the separation that was to come. But against all odds, you pleaded with the gods to stay with him; to stay in this grip, in this bedroom, in these fervent arms.

Sleep was threatening in your lids but it would be said before the night ends.

Kylo whispers your name and you exhale, preparing yourself for what he’s about to say.

“You have to go,” he begins, voice barely above a decimal. “You have to go to Baleine.”

You know this. “Yes,” you breathe. “I understand.”

Kylo takes ahold of your hips and guides you closer to him. Your face presses against the front of his chest, your nose rubbing against the tautness of his skin. He’s cold and it feels brilliant against the heat of your cheeks.

“Your childhood nurse,” he mumbles. “Is she still alive?”

You weren’t sure. Orion had been at least a century old when you were a youngling and her reserve shown with great transparency. Her age was apparent, not only in wisdom, but physicality. What was once a youthful gaze turned elderly and worn. You’d seen holo-photos; she’d shown you during long, quiet nights underneath the canopy of your bedframe. Afterwards, she’d purr a tune until you’d fall asleep in silk.

You pray she is.

“I don’t know,” you reply. You inhale his scent and it’s clean, though metallic – like iron.

Kylo hums in acknowledgement. You feel his throat vibrate, your face now in the crook of his neck. “Would she deliver the children?”

Immediately, you say, “I always hoped she would. I wouldn’t want anyone else to.” You yawn loudly, your mouth forming into a perfect “o”. “I wouldn’t _trust_ anyone else.”

You feel his fingers slide to your belly and they linger there, tracing a pattern against your flesh. You suppose he’d make a habit of this – not intentionally, of course, but unconsciously. “What’s her name?” he asks you, his voice cutting through the darkness.

“Orion,” you tell him.

He nods against your skull, tangling your hair.

“A confident name,” he decides.

As though to mirror internal concerns, you say, “She’s very old. Very wise.” Great despair shows in your tone; it is low and miserable.

“Is she human?” he wonders.

You shake your head, nose rubbing against his skin. “No. She’s Pantoran.”

He’s silent for a few moments before you understand his hesitance. “The Pantoran supported the Republic.”

A great sigh fills your lungs. “During the Clone Wars, yes, but that was decades ago.” You wrap your arms around his torso and lift a leg to drape along his waist. You feel like an Ewok hanging from the limb of a tree. “I’ll miss you.”

Kylo (the tree) responds with great control. “I don’t want you to go but…” he stops and takes a deep breath. His chest balloons and you move with it, clinging to him like tape. “I don’t know what will happen on base. We can’t take that risk.”

You nod, fully understanding the situation. After all, you were the main piece in this game; you knew this now.

“You’ll come around, right?” you whisper to him.

Kylo splays his hand around the growing bulge of your tummy. “Of course. A month apart at most.”

He reaches for your chin in order to direct your eyes to his. And despite the only light irradiating the room being two moons in the sky, you see every “imperfection” against his face. The scar that puckers his skin was intimating to others but, to you, it is the very characteristic that entitles him to one word: fortifying.

The scar isn’t a sign of terror, but it represents the chaos within – an immortal battle between the desire to be good and to be the latter. He is a fortress and he commits his life to protecting whatever it is that he has left.

That was you. And the three within.

“I don’t think I can bear it,” you whisper.

The darkness has gone from his eyes. “You’re doing this for our children.” He lifts his chin proudly. “They will be strong…powerful.”

You can’t help but smile a bit. “It’s triplets, Kylo. Not an army.”

The commander smirks, mouth curling slightly at the joke. He was so sure of them. His hand, still resting upon your belly, gravitates to the back of your neck. He pulls you in for a kiss which lingers until you run out of breath. When you pull away, two pairs of lips hover only inches apart.

“Sleep,” you tell him, palming his cheek. Your thumb strokes the fleshy scar. “Sleep, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVANESCENT // " Vanishing quickly, lasting a very short time. "


	31. Offing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: A lot of mixed vibes.

“Well, congratulations.”

General Hux walks beside you, his pair of hands wrapped around one another at the small of his back. The two of you walk among the ferns of Yanni, only a few miles outside of the base’s reach. You didn’t want to be enveloped in the smog anymore. Baleine could not come soon enough.

The direction you walk in is uncertain and the scenery is far too organic to determine your exact location. The general’s windswept hair curls softly in the faint breeze and your cape, dressing you with warmth (for the cooler months of Yanni were coming soon), billows behind you.

The two of you must be a sight to outsiders. Such a size difference; such a likeness in status, though such a variance in mien. Your soft lips and the womanly curves you bear are contradictory of the straight and narrow frame of the general…the pair of you are complete opposites indeed. You might even go as far to say that it’s quixotic – if it weren’t for the lack of romantic attachment, anyway.

“Thank you, general,” you tell him, eyes straight forward. You focus on the incoming cliff that plummets to the ocean below.

The general clears his throat, watching his feet. “I’m sure Ren is over the moons; a boy to carry on his legacy.”

You nod and, again, reply with, “Yes.”

It’s always odd speaking with Hux; not only overall but in personal discussion. He’s not someone another could confide in – he’s too harsh, too _cold_ for that. Kylo is reserved, and he is powerful, but he is not unfeeling. Hux has an aura equivalent to a funeral.

Though, on occasion, the general seems to thaw - especially in your presence. Months ago he’d been well aware of your icy performance but maybe he’d penetrated the glass. Maybe he’s finally figured it out.

You are strong – powerful and allusive. But you hold the fragility one must obtain to survive.

The general finally lifts his head to look at you. It’s the first time he’s done it since the two of you greeted one another at the bridge. He looks exhausted – his eyes are cloaked with dark circles.

“You said you’re leaving,” he says.

You adjust the cape on your shoulders. “Yes.”

“For how long?” Hux steps over a rock as big as his shin, though kicks aside a bush of violet flowers in order to continue on.

You’re still fumbling with your cape; it keeps wrapping around your throat as though it’s attempting to strangle you. Nature seemed to be against you today. You sigh, impatience arising. Chaotic hormones have been making you snap at almost everything. You decide to leave the cape alone before you exploded in a fit of temper.

“Six months. Until delivery. Maybe more,” you tell him, trying to ignore the anxiety in your chest; something else pregnancy has plagued upon you. You close your eyes in concentration, reaching out to the Force in attempt to calm down.

“When will you leave?” The general stops walking once you reach a line of brightly colored trees; it’s a sign that land is ending. If you had walked any further, you’d have fallen tragically to your death.

Your hand unconsciously cradles your belly. “As soon as this conversation is over.”

Hux nods, though mostly to himself, it seems. “I’d like to attend you on your trip. I know Ren won’t be able to join you.”

Ah, yes. Kylo had been summoned to a planet on the outer rim early this morning. You woke up without him next to you and, admittingly, you had cried. After all, it would have been the last time you’d see him for months. It was stupid to cry, and you knew it, but you also blamed that on the children.

Maybe you’d just blame everything on them. That seems easier than admitting you’re a sap.

You decide to take Hux up on his offer. “Thank you, general. I’d appreciate that very much.”

The thought of traveling to Baleine alone put a knot in your stomach. Maybe it was the anticipation of returning home, or maybe it was the recent political terrors surrounding the government; you couldn’t be sure. But the idea that Hux would be onboard with you (a man who the galaxy bowed to, no less) made you feel a little less tense.

This brought you relief and, thus, a smile.

You notice the general began to fidget, though the signs were microscopic. His left leg rolls his weight and he winds his hands tighter around each other. With his chin raised he says, “Ambassador, I haven’t told you this, but I admire your courage. Though it doesn’t seem it, your bravery and endurance inspire…” he pauses, searching for the correct word. “-cordial feelings within me.”

You could’ve gasped in surprise but you knew this would embarrass him and quite frankly, yourself. You decide to smirk a little and joke, “General…I didn’t take you for a sentimental man.”

Hux unlocks his hands from one another, only to bring his fingers to your cheek. Your breath stalls and your heart thumps uncertainly.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises, ambassador…”

The general wipes something you can’t feel just below your right eye. Against his pale, freckled hand was a long eyelash. You freeze, feeling uncertain.

Hux wipes the lash from his hands and it disappears in the wind.

“I’ll meet you on the bridge at seventeen hundred.” His voice was stronger than before. “Don’t be late.”

You watch the general as he strides towards the base, perplexed and concerned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OFFING // " The sea between the horizon and the offshore. " 
> 
> // 
> 
> Hmm. 
> 
> Tumblr: Padebae


	32. Outlander Wreaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to a new beginning.

BB is excited.

He chirps in high, electronic, tones. He tells you that he’s never been to another planet (besides Ferrum, of course). The little droid rolls around your quarters, his body flashing like a strobe light while you pack your bags.

You laugh at him. He’s a sight. The black ball had made sure he was fully charged before the trip to Baleine; he told you he didn’t want to miss a _single_ thing.

 _Is it warm there?_ he had asked you. _Is it cold? Are there lots of buildings and people?_

You answered his questions one by one. _Yes, it is very warm in Baleine – it’s a tropical planet mostly covered with a great ocean_. _There are many buildings in the city, but mostly damp forests outside the civilized limits._

At this, he squealed. _A warm planet!_ he bellowed. _I’ve never been to a warm planet!_

That was hours ago. And his excitement has not yet worn off.

Nyx enters the room, dressed in traditional Baleine wear. The two of you don thin silk – Nyx chose a brilliant turquoise while you had opted for white. The choice was symbolic. The neck of the gown was cut deep, freeing a good majority of your breasts. To foreigners, the dress would seem seductive – risqué. But in Baleine, such fashion as this was customary and showed one’s status.

After all, you were still royalty in Baleine. Despite your father’s death, those who once belonged in a royal family continued to be considered a monarch - even after their term ends. And you’d be required to wear a crown unless on palace grounds; it was a badge of sorts.

Nyx brushes her slender, pale fingers through your sleek and curly hair. It’s halfway up, twisted loosely at the base of your head. Two long curls frame your face. She had applied a clear gloss on your rosy lips, making sure that it was clean and applied to perfection. Then she retrieves a silver box placed on the bed.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

You smile, glancing at the box, though with bated breath. “Yes. More than ever.”

With nimble and careful hands, Nyx opens the chest. Inside is a dazzling tiara, though instead of traditional diamonds (usually crafted from the depths of Baleine’s inner crust), it is made of grey saber-crystals. An outlander wreath bends the crown – the plant of your royal house.

Nyx smirks in the mirror before you. You watch as the crown glistens in Yanni’s sunlight. BB cooes in awe, his one eye taking in the majesty of such a crown. It was, in all truthfulness, rather overwhelming. You hadn’t worn a tiara in so long; the image was almost emotional.

Your maiden bows her head slightly. “ _Welcome back, your majesty_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SOBBING I'M SO EXCITED. This is so emotional and I have no idea why????
> 
> // 
> 
> The inspiration for reader's gown: https://goo.gl/qXXiDi
> 
> Reader's crown is based off of Marie Bonaparte's. 
> 
> FUN FACT: I did this because I am actually a descendant of Napoleon (though illegitimate - obviously. He had no surviving children with Josephine nor his second wife). 
> 
> Here is is: https://goo.gl/AJwjIt


	33. NOT A CHAPTER ♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update!

Hey guys! 

Just want to let you know that I actually have chapters plotted out in my notebook at this very moment. I've been working a lot lately, so my writing time is limited. And when I am home, I'm sleeping or watching Family Guy...tbh.

But I'm not quitting! Don't you worry! 

We might do a bit of a time jump SOON though not immediately. But, for now, here's something I made for the "children of Ren". It's mostly to let you know that I HAVE picked out names (just to prove I'm still active!) 

Here it is! 

My loves! I also have a contest for you! 

If you make an edit for LOR (whether it be gifs of graphics), I'll give you a special surprise! ♡

Love you guys! 


	34. Ingénue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Girl talk.

Dry heat.

Aqua skies. Saturated foliage. Sand beneath your feet. The hum of the Great Sea.

Baleine.

You could have sworn you traveled back in time if it weren’t for the redhead watching you from the ship. He looks at you with indifference, though hesitancy; whether this was from the silence between the both of you throughout the duration of the trip or not, you couldn’t be sure. Nonetheless, he nods a mute goodbye while lingering at the ramp and turns from view. Only a few moments later did the engine of the ship begin to drawl itself back to life.

The ship leaves only after it tussels your hair against your face. Two bodyguards have met you at the landing. They’re two burly Bael men; natives of the planet. One is human, while the other is a humanoid, though of also a different species you can’t place. They greet you with warm, lingering expressions; they’re happy to see you, despite you never meeting them in your life.

“Welcome back, your majesty,” the humanoid says. He has orange skin with a few silver scales. He has kind, brown eyes.

You smile back. “Thank you.”

The wind from the takeoff of Hux’s ship has tangled your gown in disarray. Beside you, Nyx tends to her own, which has twisted about her ankles. Yours has done the same. And while you’re priming yourself, you hear the sudden murmuring of many voices – soft voices. Female voices.

You glance up in anticipation and are rewarded in doing so.

Shuffling along the sand in their pretty shifts are your handmaidens. At first, they greet you with proper bows and excited smiles; but as soon as the four maidens have conducted their formalities, they squeal with laughter and sprint towards you with open arms.

Some sort of feeling rushes over you. You don’t know how to explain it. There’s just one word that describes it best.

It is _home._

 

 

 

Gossamer curtains dance in the breeze of the open doors.

It’s lined with gold, these doors. Intricate designs, designs you could never have comprehended, decorate the finite space of their frames. The Great Sea of Baeline is calm in the horizon, soft waves lapping against the shore. The sound is almost musical, but most definitely rhythmic, and it almost puts you to sleep.

You’re lounging across your bed – the bed you had missed so very much. It’s baby blue, elaborate to say the least, with silk canopies dangling above it. The handmaidens (all four of them) sit with you while busying themselves with either sewing or humming lazily with shut eyes.

You’re enjoying the peace of it. The native birds chirp outside and BB-4 sleeps soundly in his charging pad. But then Mathilde shifts in her seat – an intricately decorated arm chair. She had been sprawled in it, her legs parted and torso slumped. Her shift gown is in disarray, her delicate hands fanning herself.

“What is he like?” she asks, pretty rose-petal lips sighing afterwards.

You play coy, smirking a little. “Who?”

Mathilde gives you an exhausted look, her slender chin tilting downwards and eyes unconvinced. “Why, the commander of course.”

You shut your eyes and play with a lock of your hair, one hand resting against your growing belly. “He is reserved; intelligent.”

The rest of the handmaidens watch in anticipation. Nyx barely looks up from her sewing and Orx grins a little, though tries to hide it behind her curtain of hair.

Mathilde leans her elbows on her knees, narrowing her eyes. “What is he _really_ like?”

At this, Nyx pipes in. “Mathilde, that’s enough,” she scowls, sewing forgotten very suddenly.

You let out a musical laugh – something you haven’t heard in a while. Before answering, you sit up cross-legged and straighten your back, ready and alert. The handmaidens sit at full attention on the edge of their seats, desperate to hear of the real commander.

“Nyx, it’s quite alright,” you tell her, waving a hand. You direct your attention to Mathilde. She’s smiling teasingly, green eyes bright and beautiful. “Between you and I, the commander is very good at his day job – I would even go as far to say he is legendary…” you pause, eyes softening at the mention of his title. “But he is an even greater husband…confidant.”

The handmaidens sigh longingly. Even Nyx, who is careful to break her reserve, tilts her head in admiration.

“How romantic,” Orx sighs, letting her chin rest against her palm. She’s a gorgeous woman, skin brown and soft. Her dark eyes are never angry and her natural hair dangles at her chin.

Zelda, Mathilde’s twin sister, decides to contribute to the conversation. “Is he any good in bed?”

Nyx shrieks, almost falling out of her seat. “Zelda!”

Ah, youth. You begin to giggle, but your cheeks blush. “You’re lucky I grew up with all of you. Otherwise, you’d be beheaded for even thinking such a thing.” You wink at the four of them and they don’t take it seriously, brushing it off with careless grins.

There’s an intense silence. Not even the birds sing.

“Well?” Zelda asks. “Are you going to answer the question?”

Nyx rubs her forehead in distress. “I swear to the sun, Zelda…”

You flip your hair to the other side of your neck, feeling a bit warm. It’s not just from embarrassment, as Baeline is very tepid, but it’s the cause for most of it.

“Nyx, she’s curious…” you let out a sinister grin. “As all virgins are.”

The handmaidens _ooooo_ at this, mouths falling open mockingly. Zelda crosses her arms, eyes narrowing.

“How do you know?” Her voice is sarcastic, but genuinely curious.

You reach for the hand fan on the bedside table. It’s an old piece, mostly paper made from Gomar trees, but painted by ancient paintbrushes. “Oh, Zelda,” you smile warmly. “I can see it in your eyes. You haven’t been touched…” You begin to waft yourself, sweat starting to bead against the back of your neck.

Zelda grimaces, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“But to answer your question…” you pause, wondering if you should be talking about sex life with the commander. After all, he was a figurehead of the First Order. “I couldn’t walk the next day.”

Mathilde brings her leg to drap over the armrest of her chair. “Ah, so he’s blessed.”

Orx scoffs under her breath. “That hardly matters.”

The blushing virgin, Zelda, is now openly embracing her virginity. She asks, “Really? Then why do women constantly complain about their lover’s endowment?” she mumbles afterwards. “Or lack thereof…”

Experienced as always, Orx replies, “It’s the motion of the ocean. Not the size of the boat.”

“Well,” begins Zelda in protest. “Surely the boat _must_ play a part in this equation.”

Everyone then turns to you for an answer they can all agree on. You shrug.

“I wouldn’t know,” you say, almost bored. “He’s the first man I’ve ever seen.”

Mathilde lets out a heavy breath. “Trust me – you’ll know.”

The surprise on your face is evident. You shift closer to her, scooting yourself to the edge of the bed with the promise of gossip spilling out of your chest. “And since when have you gotten so promiscuous?”

The small woman, whose stature could barely be five feet, replies simply. “I haven’t told you I’ve taken up a suitor.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Taken up? Is he for rent?”

Mathilde grins. “Maybe.”

Nyx has been quiet in the corner. She is a mystery to you. Despite being the closest to her, she never talks about romance or anything other than business. She’s the most shadowy figure you know, in a way. For someone so timid, she holds a strong barrier.

Orx must have read your mind. “Nyx, you must have an opinion of the commander. After all, you’re with the two of them more than their protocol droids.”

As professional as ever – as serious as ever – Nyx responds gracefully, needle threading through her fabric like a second nature. “The commander is very generous. And very good to our lady.”

The handmaidens look relieved, mouths upturning in unison. This is when Zelda raises her water glass.

“To our lady,” she says proudly. She smiles lovingly at you.

The rest of the women in the room raise their glasses high. “To our lady,” they harmonize.

You grin and raise your own, hand resting on the miracles in your belly. “To Baeline,” you say honorably. “And all those who dwell in her Earthly womb.”

All the women sip their water and agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been awhile. I've been adulting.


	35. Phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Ghosts. A queen. Candied fruit.

You had been walking down the halls of the palace when you heard it – that ghostly laughter. This it truly was (ghostly) because the laugh was yours.

It was impossible, of course. The noise was coming from the direction of the throne room and you had just exited your bedroom. Your chest tautened with anxiety. All at once, a chorus of tittering arose throughout the halls. Goosebumps raised on your arms.

You knew the second voice – it transcended through time.

You found yourself rushing towards the phantoms, and when you slammed open the doors, you felt an intense amity.

The throne room was somewhat of a considerable greenhouse; there was ivy stretching along the brick walls and botanicals of all kinds. Lurid flowers with large petals fanned themselves against one another, ancient trees shading them with their massive leaves. In the center of the room was a pond, sprinkled with mosses and alive with feather-tailed fish.

It was then, when observing the room, that you saw him.

Your father.

He had been a handsome man – older than your mother by twenty years. Wisdom collected in his grey, aging eyes. The Force around him radiated something gorgeous, though he never showed sign of sensitivity. No matter – he was more brilliant than any Jedi master.

Kind King Calvin.

You watched the sight with vibrating hands. There you were, shy of ten years. Your fingers were skimming the surface of the water, giggling when a fish swam too close and grazed its tail against your fingers. Your father was relaxing next to you, his own hand stirring the mud of the pond and laughing as you did.

It took your breath away.

“Ambassador Ren,” called a voice.

It’d frightened you – the scene before was too tranquil.

The voice belonged to Queen Sabyr. Had she not been dressed as she was, you’d have mistaken her for a maiden. She was so young – no lines of stress stamped upon her pale face. Her sleek, pearl locks of hair dusted her collarbones. You hadn’t expected her to look so… serene.

“Your majesty,” you greet her, bowing as much as you can.

She lifts a faultless palm which featured no sign of imperfection. She’s never worked a day in her life.

“Please. Your condition,” she says with a smile. Her lips are lavender and she has sparkles in her hair. She gestures to the throne - the ghosts have gone. “Reminiscing?”

“Yes,” you answer, voice unsteady.

“Ah,” she muses. “Your father’s spirit walks these corridors. You don’t have to be Force sensitive to feel him.”

You don’t know what to say to this. Instead of replying, your eyes catch vision of the throne, glided with gold and marble.

“Well, since you’re here, we might as well get to know one another.” She takes a seat on one of the pillows beside the pond. “Come. Sit.”

You do, your feet thanking you for it.

“So, you’re the one who ensnared the commander.” She says this almost blasé and dips her feet into the pond. The water is organic, murky, and clouded with algae; her feet disappear within moments.

Somewhat offended, you reply, “I hardly think _ensnared_ is the right word.”

She grins. “Mystified him, then.”

You grimace, hand now cupping your belly.

Sabyr sighs, drifting her legs back and forth and creating ripples in the water. “My girls are enamored with him,” she says. She must mean her maidens. “He’s very handsome – very powerful.”

“Are they?” You lift your chin and keep your eyes straight forward. You were careful not to look at her – just in case.

The queen faintly laughs. “Yes. They were inconsolable when they heard you were with child.”

You try to look drool. “How unfortunate for them.”

Sabyr grins at this, maybe pleased with the effect this conversation was having on you. She looks intently at your rounding stomach. “Triplets. What a gift.”

You wish she wouldn’t inquire about your personal life. In fact, you were beginning to dislike the queen. The audacity she had to talk about the commander in that manner – had she no filter? Or was she intentionally trying to piss you off?

“And a son no less,” she adds. She wades her feet some more. “How’s the general?”

An odd change of subject. You raise a brow. “You know the general?”

She chuckles and places a hand on your thigh. You stare at it indifferently but she doesn’t seem to notice…nor care.

“I grew up with him. Our fathers were very close.” She pats your leg and retracts her hand, oblivious to your distaste. “I haven’t spoken to him in years.” At this, she sounds far away.

“He’s very busy,” you say, irritated by her knowledge.

This confused you.

“He always was.” She looks sad when she says this.

The curiosity was intense. Had there been romance? Feelings of any kind? _Mutual_ feelings? You couldn’t imagine Hux feeling anything more than (to use his exact word) _cordial_ towards someone.

Then again, she hinted otherwise in her eyes.

Sabyr shakes her head as though to clear her thoughts. “Well,” she begins. “Let’s discuss more important things. How long will you be staying with us?”

The question seems passive, the underlining tone a bit anxious for an answer.

You’d had such high expectations. You hoped she’d be a wise woman beyond her years – maybe she had enough humility to continue to lead Baeline’s people into the golden age (which your father had started). But the more she spoke (and the less you did) a confident opinion of her was dissolving.

It was when she began discussing new renovations for the palace that it dawned you on you.

She reminded you of your mother.

 

* * *

 

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

You’d been ranting to your maidens for the past fifteen minutes. After your confrontation with the queen this afternoon, your mood had plummeted. It was nighttime now and the sky was black, glittering with moonlight and faraway stars.

Zelda was brushing your hair very gently, untangling all the knots you’d created throughout the day. She’s caught your skull a few times, though, ironically enough, she was the gentlest out of the girls. You were perfectly capable to do it yourself, of course, but Zelda volunteered; she claimed she needed to busy her hands.

The two of your sat cross-legged on your bed. You were snacking on pieces of an orange melon while Zelda ran her fingers through the silk of your hair.

“She’s selfish, though I don’t think it’s intentional.” Mathilde was licking her fingers, which had been coated with sugar; she was eating candied fruit and laying on the couch before you.

Nyx raises a blonde eyebrow. “How can you be unintentionally selfish?”

Mathilde watches as Nyx picks out a piece of the fruit. “Maybe she doesn’t understand the consequences of her actions,” she replies.

Zelda scoffs behind you. “I just don’t think she’s very smart.”

You grin at this. You’d have to agree with her. There was narcissism and it mingled about her spirit.

“What is the people’s opinion of her?” you ask.

Orx was stretched out on the floor in front of you. She yawned, her arms raising about her head. “Indifference. She hasn’t done much. There’s no advancement.”

You muse, “I wonder how she handles the currency…”

“ _That_ will be her downfall,” Zelda contributes. She sets down the brush with a sigh. “I just know it.”

You shake your head. “All that talk of renovating the palace – the people will soon starve.”

“Her wardrobe is elaborate. Too much for a new queen,” says Mathilde. She dabs her petite mouth with a cloth napkin. On it, her initials are embroidered in a soft pink.

The brisk silence is disturbed by Nyx. She rises from her seat and rubs her pretty eyes. “We should be off to bed. You need your rest, milady.”

At this, Zelda wraps her arms around your neck and places a kiss on your cheek. You smile, gladly accepting the gesture.

“Goodnight, milady.”

 

* * *

 

 

_That night, the door of your bedroom opened very slowly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a wild guess what happens next.


	36. Proclamations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Fluff and a little smut. Maybe grab some tissues.

You had been asleep when you felt him.

At first it was his Force impression. It was so _strong_. The air grew warm and light – you could breathe so deeply and it was _mesmerizing_.

But then you felt his hands. Firm, calloused fingers traced your cheek and brushed away the hair from your eyes. Then there was that robotic limb – so cold and so apparent.

Divine lips pressed themselves against your neck. His human touch cradled your belly.

_He was here._

Your hand instinctively reaches to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch with contentment.

“You came for me,” you whisper in the darkness.  

He kisses your palm before saying, “I’m here.”

Oh, that voice. That glorious voice so full of desire and influence. _Gods_ , you think, _how could I be separated from him_?

“I couldn’t wait,” he breathes against your throat. “The bed was cold.”

You tilt your neck so he can gain more access. Wetness gathers between your thighs.

“I missed you,” you pant.

“I missed you,” he repeats. The baritone of his voice ruts against your bones.

He takes your chin and finally - _finally_ \- kisses your lips. His mouth is exhilarating and the taste of him is too much for you to bear. You moan in the kiss and he swallows the sound.

All your concerns have vanished. You focus on him instead; like the way his tendons clench beneath the tautness of his clothing or the way his thick hands slide their way up your nightgown.

You’re aware of the angry stretch marks that bolt across your stomach. Your skin had tightened to allow your children to grow and, for this, you were thankful. Kylo runs his hands along your form and leaves tender kisses in their wake.

Against your belly, his hardened fingers dance along the scars. “ _Love of my life_ ,” he whispers. “ _Mother of my children_.”

Tears gather in your eyes. You begin to pet his hair.

 _Love._ It was the first time the word had been uttered.

Of course you love him. You love him as a whole; all of his anger and all of the tender moments – the ones he’d only let you see. It was simply too much.

You begin to cry.  

“ _I love you, I love you, I love you_ …”

It was then, with his mouth pressed to your abdomen, that you realize he is talking to them.

You choke on a sob, fingers still knotting through his hair. He lifts his eyes to you.

Kylo Ren, your husband and confidant, kisses the tears from your eyes.

“ _I love you_.”

 

* * *

 

Rays of sunshine filter through the curtains.

You had awoken to the sight of him bare. His long legs were hanging from the sides of the bed and his raven locks were in disarray. Your nimble fingers dance along his bicep and his skin has been warmed from the sun of Baeline. Dozens of freckles are placed perfectly about his skin as though he were bearing a map of the heavens.

Time passes. You meditate in his presence, watching the measured breathing that fills his chest.

You feel…lighter.

_You love him._

After he had said it, you fell under the spell of sleep. It was as though the epiphany had taken a cosmic energy from you. Feeling it was one thing but proclaiming it was another.

Kylo begins to stir awake. Butterflies erupt throughout your body when his bright eyes open to the ceiling. Immediately, you lean over him. When you do, your baby bump (well, _babies_ bump) grazes his torso. Peppered kisses mark their way up his body and rest against his full lips.

He rubs his eyes while you hum happily against him. “What did you dream about?”

A naughty grin forms beneath your mouth.

“Unfinished business,” he growls.  Sleep still lingers in his voice and it makes your toes curl.

“Mmm…” You barely pull away from him, his breath fanning against you. “You’ve put enough babies in me already.”

Strong hands grasp the sides of your face before he pulls you in. His tongue dances with yours and, even half asleep, the man is an artist. The day be damned – you’re going to keep him here all day.

“I want more of them,” he mumbles. His fingers press so roughly into your bare thighs that leaves marks. You tremble around him.

You speculate, “Three’s not enough?”

He shakes his head against the hollow of your neck. His lips nurse the delicate skin and more than likely begins to form an appalling bruise. How would you explain _that_ to the senate?

“There’s no such thing…” A kiss on your jugular. “As…” One on your collarbone. “Too…” The top of your breast. “Much.”

He ends the sentence by suckling on the flesh of your chest. You arch in his grip.

“Even…” You gasp for air. “Even with this belly?”

“You have never been sexier…” He sucks on the tender skin. “…than what you are right now.”

His head is buried into your breasts. “Hey…” You lift his face, your quivering palms gripping his hot cheeks. “Leave some for our babies, will you?”

For the past two months, your breasts have swollen to at least three bra sizes. And, gods, were they sore. But somehow Kylo’s mouth numbed the pain and, in truth, he was milder than you had expected.

Another wicked grin from him. He growls before lifting the blankets over his head. Soon enough, you feel the heat of his breath against your sex.

Pitiable, dry noises manage to escape your throat. Each time, no matter how hard you attempted to control it, he succeeded in destroying your composure. But then he did that thing with his _tongue_ and…

The door of the bedroom opens and the voices of your maidens filter through your moaning.

Orx is the first one to notice because she is leading the group. For a split second, they are unaware of what they are witnessing. But then the black of her eyes expand and she drops the teacup gripped in her hand; it spills onto the carpet of the floor.

Kylo freezes against you, his tongue retracting back in his mouth.

“Milady,” Orx prattles. The girls beside her are covering their mouths, eyes twitching in shock. “I apologize…”

The maidens stampede their way back to the hall so inelegantly that Nyx trips over Zelda’s gown during the shuffling. Orx shuts the door and avoids eye contact with you completely.

You expect Kylo to stop, but once the laughter from outside reaches a respectable distance, he continues his work.

Something attempts to form on your lips. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. Your hands have gripped the blankets so roughly that the seams are stretching. You roll your eyes in the back of your head and hiss through your teeth.

“You’re still…” You inhale slowly, beginning to feel the tightening above your sex. “You’re still going?”

Kylo lifts his head from the covers to meet your eyes. He grins, his mouth glistening.

“I’m not finished…” He wipes your arousal from his face with the back of his hand. “And neither are you…”

You chirrup as he lifts your hips to him.

 

* * *

 

The maidens have congregated at a reasonable distance from your bedroom. Nyx has a freshly laundered shift draped over her arm while Zelda keeps the basin of water against her hip. All four of them keep their eyes away from the direction of your room with an uncomfortable silence.

From the other end of the hall, they hear you shout the commander’s name.

Mathilde grins impishly at the others. “ _She’s in love_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this. 
> 
> // 
> 
> My new URL on Tumblr is "nightsofren" xx


	37. Phosphenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later.

 A year later.

 

* * *

 

 

You had been dreaming a good dream.

A dream equivalent to milk and honey. A dream where the universe was exactly as it should be – the Resistance defeated, Snoke displaced, and Kylo rid of his demons. The slumber was exactly that – a _slumber_. A deep hibernation of which you hadn’t the honor of partaking in months.

But then there was a voice, like gravel and thick with accent, that sliced through the veil. You feel his presence behind your eyelids and damn the universe for _him_ being the first thing you hear in the morning.

“Wake up,” he says. He sounds irritated – you can imagine his face pinching in vex.

A groan whispers in your ear and it tickles down your spine. Kylo has you in an embrace, your face pressed against the strength of his chest. “You’re lucky I’m dressed,” he snarls without looking. He too knows who hovers in the corner of the bedroom.

You peek at the ginger man (though carefully as to not arouse his suspicion that you have, in fact, been rudely awoken) through the crook of Kylo’s arm. He stands in the corner, hands folded around themselves, with an importance only a General could bear. His expression tells you he’s concerned – the sort of concerned that had more to do with the First Order rather than seeing a husband and wife sharing such an intimate, _human_ , moment.

Hux’s eyebrows crinkle. He’s genuinely confused. “As opposed to…?”

You almost laugh. My God.

Kylo barely lifts his chin from the top of your head. “I _am_ sleeping with my wife,” he growls.

It’s then that you finally decide to say, with great control, “How is that you’re the one to wake us but not our children?”

_You forget that he is a child_ , Kylo murmurs in your head. You smirk at him through your lashes and he grins back, sleep still lingering in his heavy eyes.

The general exhales with great distress, refusing to move an inch from his spot in the far end of the bedroom. Maybe he’s very aware of the impatience pulsating from Kylo – maybe he’s afraid to push any further. You didn’t blame him – Kylo was more of a monster in the morning, especially when rudely interrupted from the sleep he so rarely got.

This had been an all too familiar song and dance for the past seven months. There was building the First Order, an entire system of government, and then there was raising triplets (take a wild guess which was more demanding).

“ _Because_ ,” Hux began crossly. “-your maidens took the children hours ago. They believed the two of you needed your rest but they seem to have forgotten that you’re both _figureheads_ of the First Order.” He shifts in his stance; you can hear the fabric of his pants rustling. “Fortunately, I have not.”

Still pressed gently against Kylo, you mumble, “I’m also a mother.”

Hux is silent for a moment, considering this, before he asks Kylo, “What’s your excuse?”

You open your eyes; Kylo is shooting daggers at Hux. The general now looks as though he understands he’s crossed the line. Even Hux, rarely affected by Kylo’s brooding, knows his limits. Waking the beast, especially with his wife, was dangerous.

A sigh escapes your dry lips.  “What is it, Hux?” You’ve been defeated and, as much as you hate to admit it, he has a point.

“Have you forgotten about the queen’s visit today?” he asks you, his tone like one of a nagging mother. Your hands clench Kylo’s biceps in attempt to calm your breathing. Better Kylo’s poor, abused arms than Hux’s neck.

Gods, you were so tired. But _of course_ you knew about the queen’s visit. It’s as if Hux can’t possibly wrap his mind around the idea of a new mother juggling her career (for a lack of a better word) with her personal life. And aside from the sleep exhaustion, you were doing it pretty well.

“That’s later,” you shoot back. “What time is it anyway?”

Hux pulls his datapad from his pocket. “14,” he tells you, clicking the device off.

You roll your eyes, tucking yourself back into Kylo. “I have five hours until then.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be preparing?”

You growl. “Shouldn’t you be minding your own damn business?”

“The First Order _is_ my business,” the general snarls back.

A deep breath through your nose. _Please kill him_ , you tell Kylo.

_I think you’re doing a pretty good job_ , he retorts.

You groan, lifting yourself into a seated position, and wrap the blankets around you. You’re not naked, but you feel vulnerable in your sleepwear in the presence of the General. Funny, considering you’ve faced him with nothing on but a sheet.

“Because you’re so concerned, General…” You wipe a stray lock of hair from your eyes, the messy bun atop your head flopping against your forehead. “I prepared my script for the queen’s arrival last night…”

The General begins into interject but you hold up a finger, less he _dare_ interrupt.

“-while pumping breast milk for three, seven-month-old children. _One_ of whom has an ear infection.”

Hux swallows hard, eyes retracting from you to turn his attention to the ceiling.

It’s then that Kylo, still face down in the pillows, tells him, “Get out, Hux.”

The ginger hesitates. “Get up,” he counters.

You stare blankly at the wall, dizzy from sleep, and wait for Kylo to slam his hands against the bedside table as a show of force. But what Kylo does is even more frightening. He says to the general:

“I won’t say it again.”

Why this response is so much more intimidating, Hux _surely_ couldn’t be positive. But _you_ know why. Kylo was a father now and, while his patience for his children was uncharacteristic, the idea of such vulnerability could, well, scare the ever loving _fuck_ out of someone else.

You smirk at this.

With a sigh, the General steps out of view. “Alright, but if I don’t see you in an hour I’m calling for reinforcements.”

You scoff. “Like who?”

“Nyx,” Hux shoots back from the other room. You hear him say something to C-50, and then, right before you’re about to collapse back into the mattress and into Kylo’s arms, you feel them.

It’s a flutter in your belly. The entirety of your quarters pulses with light and your mood elates dramatically. Kylo sits up beside you, rubbing his eyes, and stretching his arms above his head.

“They’re awake,” he says, his lips finding your shoulder. He kisses your skin sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gals and guys! 
> 
> It's been a hot minute. I'm sorry this is a shitty piece of writing but it's something to hold you over until I can truly quench your appetite. Like I said on my Tumblr, I had to do a time jump because 1.) The Last Jedi is almost here and that can fuck with the story line & 2.) If I didn't move onto the next part of Kylo x reader's life, it was doomed.


	38. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the children.

They weren’t identical; though from an outsider’s perspective it was as probable as gravity that, eventually, they would become impossible to distinguish from one another. In fact, the two girls, Oya and Enyos, each have a hairstyle considerably different from the other’s in order to aid strangers’ perception.

Oya is the eldest by two minutes and her personality has not been deemed otherwise. At seven months old, she has already proven herself as dominant over both Enyos and Shiva. Her locks reflect this, chopped at her pudgy chin – a suggestion from Kylo himself. Like Oya, the short hair was low maintenance.

Shiva, the middle child, bears his father’s looks yet lacks the fervor that douses Kylo’s energy. He, unlike his sisters, is very aloof and tends to reflect upon himself more than the world around him. And while his father might be considered self-reliant, Shiva’s instinct is to behave well and _only_ well. You’ve noticed his taking comfort in the warmth of your embrace is more appealing to him than it seems to be with the girls.

Not to say that the girls aren’t affectionate. In fact, Enyos (who is the smallest) rarely leaves her father alone. Whenever she wakes in the middle of the night, whether it be from a bad dream or a dirty cloth, her cry echoes throughout the whole of the base. It is only when her father comes home after the cycle that she is genuinely content, quiet, and forgiving. She’d rather tot around with Kylo than with you and seemed to favor his company more than yours.

Alright, so you were jealous. Enyos is stubborn – a challenge. Shiva constantly hankers for your attention and Oya is naturally independent so her distancing herself from you is to be taken with a grain of salt. But Enyos was different. Something about her was simply _different_.

Her birth was the hardest and you had pushed her for much longer than the other two. While her siblings had already been bathed, swaddled, and documented, Enyos was just being delivered.

“She’ll be small her whole life.” Orion had inspected her shortly after her birth. She said this with a smile while measuring her femur bone. “The runt.”

You watch with great anticipation as Nyx comes through the bedroom doors; a raven-haired boy and a watchful baby girl in both her arms. Following suit is Orx, still in her pale blue nightgown, and toting Enyos (who looks rather annoyed, her little mouth curling downwards and dark eyes scrutinizing the scene – still, she looked very cute, even with her pouting).

Your heart leaps as Shiva’s expression grows into a state of bliss, his wide eyes growing even larger upon seeing you. He shrieks with delight, fat cheeks pressing against, what are now, slits for eyes.

“Good morning, my love!” you laugh, the two of you reaching out for one another. Nyx has to scuffle in a hurry to you, lest he jump from her arms and into yours.

“Oh mama’s!” you twitter, taking him into your embrace. He tosses his head back, a jolly grin beaming back at you. “Look at you! In such a good mood!” You kiss him on the cheek; once, twice, three times.

“All of us went for a walk around the base. Nowhere dangerous, of course. We stayed far from the training facilities.” Nyx sets Oya in the play pen next to your bed. Behind her, Orx settles Enyos in beside her sister.

The two girls immediately busy themselves with each other’s company. Enyos crawls towards Oya and taps her hands against her sister’s face (she pats things she loves – an adorable quirk of hers). The eldest sister looks upon her with indifference but lacks the element of surprise when she sits there and takes it.

“Has the commander woken up? We just ran into the General in the hall and…” Nyx begins.

You sigh. “Yes, he’s in the refresher now.”

Kylo had (very obviously) made sure to leave before the two maidens came into the bedroom. While he retired wearing his mask – breaking it in a fit of rage and refusing to make another – he never let anyone see him without his official robes on. You suppose you should do the same in regards to the General, though he had an awful habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times.

You change the subject on a matter more pressing. “How is her ear?” You motion towards Enyos on the floor who continues to bug her sister.

Orx folds her arms against her chest. “She’s okay. Better than this morning.” She shakes her head, her head of curls glimmering in the sunlight that seeps through the windows. “She’s very resilient.”

This is true. Enyos is tough so when you found her sobbing in her crib this morning with a pair of red, wetted, eyes and a small hand tugging at her ear, _you_ were brought to tears. It was the first real illness out of any of them.

You shift Shiva in your arms (your dominant had fallen asleep – he was pretty heavy for his age) and he picks at the hem of your nightgown with great curiosity. “Orion will be here soon. I’ll have her take a look at it.”

Ah, yes. It was a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders; Orion was visiting. She was to arrive with the queen today. Though she would only be here for a few weeks, the stress would surely recede. You needed a mother figure now more than ever. It was only after two weeks after the birth of the children that you were separated from her and taken back to Yanni.

While they weren’t Orion, you were allowed permission to bring two maidens back home with you; Nyx (of course) and Orx (who had proved herself worthy during your pregnancy and your stay on Baeline). Their transfer was to be approved by Hux (unfortunately) but he was easy to persuade after you convinced him Kylo would be in an even more foul mood if he had to stay up all night with three, screaming newborns. You needed two extra set of hands – no exceptions.

“You’d better leave before the commander is done,” you tell them both. You fix the sock that had been falling off Shiva’s foot for a good five minutes. “I’ll send for you later.”

The young women nod.

“Yes, milady.” Nyx bows and the two of the maidens disappear after blowing each of the children a kiss.

Once the two of them are out of sight, you hear the door of the refresher open. Kylo walks out, now dressed in his robes rather than his night-wear. He his menacing, dark, brooding; he could scare off a thousand men and his walk is heavy – too heavy to ever be friendly.

But still, the moment Enyos turns to see him, she shrieks with glee and abandons her attention on Oya. The knight, cold as ice, melts like vapor in the sun at her delight. He kisses Oya on the head, careful to not neglect, and scoops the youngest in his arms.

Enyos places her palms against her father’s cheeks and brings her forehead to his.

That’s when you see it.

_Ben Solo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a very short chapter but actually for dramatics. 
> 
> I have the next chapter plotted. 
> 
> But you gotta wait.
> 
> (Remember how I said I killed off Ben Solo????)


	39. Inure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Hux's weird distaste of children.

_Ben Solo._

He was here. Right _there._ The shape of Kylo’s form has suddenly morphed into a younger man with his child resting on his hip. Yes, he had the scar. He had the uniform. He had his long, raven, hair…but Kylo had _gone_. Gone like yesterday’s weather.

He says your name and it slices through your subconscious like a knife. You’ve been hastily brought back to reality. You blink once, twice, and three times before clearing your throat.  

“What?” You smile warmly, attempting to discharge all previous inclinations to a much farther place. A place where you hope you’d never see it again. You wipe the strange look off your visage and reach for Enyos. “I’ll take it her for now. You’re late.”

Kylo hands you the gurgling baby girl. “Yes. You’re right…” he leans in to kiss the top of her curly hair before turning to you. “I won’t be long. Just a couple of days.”

You nod in submission, feeling cold and suddenly very alone.

“Who will take care of you on that ship?” you smirk, petting the lapel of his torso. “The Finalizer is…”

“It’s the Supremacy,” he interrupts.

You freeze, blood pooling to your feet. “Snoke’s ship?”

Kylo hesitates, a hand brushing through Enyos’s curls. “Yes,” he answers without meeting your gaze.

The mention of Snoke’s name blurs your vision. You hug Enyos close to your chest in order to stay grounded and study the way Kylo gazes at the child in your arms. He looks as though...

You grab him by his cape and pull him close to you. Enyos, still in your arms, has been sandwiched between your bodies. She leans her sore ear against her father’s heartbeat. _Tha-thump. Tha-thump._

Breath barely escapes your lungs.

“ _Come. Back. Home_.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the queen had arrived you’d been stewing in your thoughts for so long you were marinated.

The children were in their play-pen next to your desk, babbling with one another as though they were carrying on a real conversation. Enyos was chatting animatedly with her sister while Oya pretended to listen, staring at her patties like they were interesting. Shiva had been messing with a rattle for the past ten minutes. It was at this moment when you realized how much at peace you could be with, well, _everything_.

But you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had seen him. Ben Solo. For the first time in a very, very long time. And though you had noticed fleeting signs – desperate attempts, anyway – you hadn’t witnessed the rogue Jedi the way you did this morning.

His eyes…they were lighter.

With a sigh, you rub your face and try to concentrate on your work. You had to prepare for your meeting with the queen. The objective was fairly simple; to plan the dedication of the children into the royal household of Baeline. You imagine a good majority of it were to be agreements on the venue (or disagreements, you suspect, as you’ve noticed the two of you don’t seem to get along). As expected. These traditions were important to the people of Baeline and you wouldn’t dare to let them down.

Your face is in your hands when Hux arrives to your room. It’s easy to tell when he’s near because of the way he walks – how his feet march sternly through the quarters.

“The queen has arrived,” he tells you.

Your words are muffled by your palms. “She can wait.”

He hesitates. Going off schedule? Blasphemous.

“I’m sorry, what?” he replies, icily.

You lift your head and notice he’s kept quite a distance from the children. He stands at the end of the room rigidly, eyes darting back and forth between you and the triplets with a sense of uneasiness. What the hell was his problem?

“Do you have a problem with my children?” you ask him suddenly.

The ginger raises his eyebrows, pupils widening at the indictment. You can tell he’s about to lie, to say something like, _Ren would kill me if I got less than ten feet of them_ , but he falters.

“I…” he pauses, the gears carefully shifting in his head. “I don’t very much care for children.”

You smirk a little before shutting off the timeline of events above your head – a hologram blue and flickering with light. Then you lean back into your chair, steepling your hands and concentrating on the general’s eyes.

Uncomfortable indeed.

“Why?” you demand.

Hux tilts his chin in your direction, a scowl forming against his tightened, pink lips. “Excuse me?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why don’t you care for children?”

He averts from your eyes, concentrating instead on the space above your head. “I just don’t.”

You remind yourself of Sabyr and what she had said about the general: “ _I grew up with him. Our fathers were very close. I haven’t spoken to him in years_.” And when you told her that he was busy, she had replied with, “ _he always was_ ,” very sadly, as you recall.

Interesting. You suppose you’d take that answer…for now.

“Here,” you say suddenly, wandering to the children and lifting Oya from her seat on the floor. You grunt; she’s gotten heavier. What _was_ it with these kids? Maybe you were overfeeding them…

Hux looks terrified as you hand her to him with her dangling legs and big, brown eyes. He accepts her, though begrudgingly, and says, “What are you…”

“Get used to them,” you sneer. “One day, they’ll be your superiors.”

Hux looks impassively at Oya in his arms. He’s holding her as though she’s carrying a foul disease, her body suspended above the air before him. The look on his face tells you he’s past uncomfortable and is now trudging into another territory entirely.

“What do you want me to do with her?” he asks, lifting his lip in vexation. Oya giggles heartily at him.

You’re settling both Shiva and Enyos in both of your arms. Months ago you’d been petrified of holding two babies at once – what if you _dropped_ them? But now it was so natural that you barely flinched when Shiva threatened to edge from your grip. You simply bounced on one knee and he slid easily back into place.

“Carry her. I can’t hold all three of them, you know.” You begin for the doors and sigh just before exiting the quarters.

A lump forms in your throat. The thought of approaching Sabyr made you, well, _gag_. You really didn’t care for her. The similarities between her and your mother were too…tangible.

“Into the fray,” you grumble.

Enyos tightens her grip on your gown. It’s as though she knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inure // "To become jaded." 
> 
> //
> 
> Okay kids, 
> 
> I'm not going to lie when I say: TLJ TOTALLY RUINED THIS TIMELINE. So please forgive me if things are out of place; I'll try to get back on track as soon as possible. 
> 
> I also said on Tumblr that this chapter was going to be super angsy but I realized I had to take care of some things first (THANKS RIAN).


	40. Limerence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...let's talk about THAT relationship.

“Ambassador, I would very much like to avoid meeting with the queen.”

The general’s booming voice carries down the halls as he still tugs Oya along in a firm grip. He struggles to keep up. A small grin peaks at the corners of your mouth while you pretend to remain incredulous about his concern of seeing the queen.

Please, if he thinks you this oblivious he obviously doesn’t know you at all.

“Not fond of politicians either, are you Hux?” The smile threatening to dominate your lips does exactly that – you stifle a giggle but he can’t see it.

The general sniffs. “Not fond of politicians…” he grumbles. “I _am_ a politician.” He continues to trek forth and finally reaches your side. Your smile immediately fades, a neutral expression camouflaging your mien. “It’s just…”

“This one in particular?” you guess.

The hangar is in view. Stormtroopers and engineers are lining up for the queen’s arrival, postures upright and mouths turned downward. Such a warm welcome. _Maybe it’ll scare her off_ , you think with malevolent desire.

Hux stops in the middle of the hallway and shifts Oya in his arms. You wait for him to speak, eyebrows arched and temper clouded by Hux’s anxiety. For the love of _kriff_ , was this the General of the First Order? Or had he been replaced by a frightened little boy?

“You don’t have to answer that. I already know,” you dismiss. “She made it pretty clear there was something between the two of you.”

His eyes widen, maybe uncertain how to react. And you don’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine being reunited with your (dare you say it?) first love after years of separation. Then again, you hadn’t ever fallen in love before Kylo. How were you to know? Maybe Hux didn’t love her. Maybe he just…

“It was nothing,” he says firmly.

The fear in his eyes says something else entirely. “I don’t believe that,” you tell him. “But it’s not my concern.”

You turn on your heels for the queen’s ship. _The Tempest_ , you believe is its name. It’s a grand ship – much more impressive than necessary and probably far too expensive for a queen just starting her term. Its exterior was extremely well kept which told you it was more than likely new. If she walked out in a gown made of velvet, you’d vow to stage a coup.

The ramp falls and slowly but surely the queen of Baeline walks out of her dazzling ship wearing a black, _velvet_ , jumpsuit. An outlander wreath has been pinned to her lapel to showcase her status as queen.

“I swear to the gods…” you mutter under your breath. You resist the urge to roll your eyes and it takes _everything_ in you.

Hux’s breath has stalled. The look on his face has frozen completely – it’s the sort of expression that only a jaded man wears. At the sight of her, with hair as light as distant stars, the general (a man who you have seen only once in diminutive form) chokes on his words.

“I’d stay away from her if I were you,” you mumble to him. “I don’t trust her.”

The general barely parts his lips to say, “I agree.”

Once more, you turn your attention to the queen. You wish you hadn’t invited her. Why had you succumbed to this low-point?

But then you see her.

Orion.

The elder Pantoran woman follows close behind the royal party. She’s using a cane made of wood, struggling each and every step of the way in order to keep up. The brilliant yellow marks that line her cheeks show vividly against the aqua blue of her skin. Your heart bloats with admiration. It’s been months since you’d seen her – seven, to be exact.

Sabyr steps forward, abandoning Orion behind her. If you could, you’d slap the pin latched onto her torso; she didn’t deserve it. “Ambassador Ren.”

You watch her blue eyes very steadily…coldly. “Your majesty. Welcome to Yanni,” you force between your teeth.

The general shifts uncomfortably next to you but you sense he’s trying very hard to compose himself. Sabyr notices, her expression blasé. “Armitage. Charming as always.”

 _Armitage_?

The redhead clears his throat. He absolutely _refuses_ to look at her dead on. “Your majesty. How very delightful to see you again.”

You resist the urge to grin wickedly.

“Your majesty? So formal. I supposed we’d be on a first name basis by now.”

Hux sighs in relief when Orion arrives at Sabyr’s side. He immediately hands Oya to her like a ragdoll, though the child hesitates to let him go. Her lips pout a bit, lower lip jutting.

“You thought wrong. Good day,” he ends with, departing from the hangar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Limerence // "The state of being infatuated with another person." 
> 
> // 
> 
> Here! Two shitty chapters in one night! 
> 
> (Also very short. Ya'll are just lucky I can write anymore. LMAO.)


	41. The Baleine Skirmish (PART I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do all love stories begin? 
> 
> In warfare.

_**T W O    Y E A R S    B E F O R E** _

* * *

 

“ _The ambassador has joined the division_.”

A barrage of TIES and Bruler starfighters cut through the bleak expanse of space. Above the atmosphere of Baleine is a war which speckles the black of the galaxy with bouts of green and red.

The main controls of the Bruler have been flashing for five minutes now. The droid that’s fastened on the back of your right wing has been shouting profanities and screaming hysterically ever since you flew from your hangar – that was some thirteen minutes before. The astromech clicks and beeps within your headset.

“I know, I know,” you tell RT-25. “But I don’t plan on slowing down any time soon.”

RT-24 begs to differ, arguing your incompliance.

“I’ll shut communications off, RT. Don’t try me.”

The droid beeps with an upset, but stern, tone. He doesn’t press any further on the matter.

A fuzzy dispatch sounds in your earpiece. The voice belongs to Zi, your heavy agent. The roughness of his voice crackles the audio so you tune the dial a bit. “Commander, what’s wrong with your droid?”

You groan, dodging blaster fire within the maze of X-wings. In the background, RT squeals in fear.

“It’s his first mission, Zi. I think it’ll be his last,” you tell him.

A fighter turns their guns on you but misses, hitting the lone TIE that had been trailing behind. You grit your teeth and rotate the Bruler before firing at the rebel’s ship. In the darkness it explodes, a chemical fire following suit.

“If you’re trying to impress me, Ambassador, it’s working,” says Zi. He laughs through the ricochet of gunfire.

You smirk to yourself and shift gears. The ship jolts forward with more speed, much to RT’s demise, and he screams mechanically; it somehow echoes into the lack of atmosphere. Dozens of X-wings buzz past with the TIES barely keeping up behind you.

It’s no surprise when Zi is able to easily fall into place beside your ship. He gives you a quick thumbs-up through the window and turns to focus back on the scene.

 _The Raddus_ appears into view. Its expansion is astounding; even for someone who’s been surrounded by remarkable ships their whole life. The sleekness of it, the dull roundness (solely for extensive space travel and not aesthetic). You appreciate a good-looking ship; even admire it.

But you wanted to burn this one down.

“We need to take out that center console,” you direct to the entire squadron, microphone pressed against your frowning lips. You point to the monstrous undercarriage of _The Raddus_ , though no one can see you do so. “The defibrillator is keeping the shield up.”

Zi sounds in your earpiece. “Copy that, night leader,” he says before flying away.

_“Commander Ren has joined the battalion.”_

Another throng of TIES whiz beside your fighter, managing to keep up the pace. They head towards _The Raddus,_ blasters firing wildly into the field.

It’s when _The Silencer_ breezes by, twirling through the battle like a dance and blasting a hole through every X-wing it passes, that a stranger calls your title through the monitor.

“Ambassador,” he says. “-as I understand, you don’t have the authority to give command to my battalion.”

His voice is novel and tinged with a Coruscant accent (if foreign relations weren’t your specialty you wouldn’t have noticed it at all). The lowness of his tone causes your spine to tingle.

You allow a smug grin. Finally. _Had he been in the damn latrine_?

“Ah, Kylo Ren. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance…” You’re cut off short, quickly pulling up to avoid an incoming heat missile. The flames flick your ship, which you’re sure RT is getting the brunt of. “Unfortunately for you, you are above my sky and, in my airspace, I give the orders.”

The First Order commander is silent on the opposite end of the line, more than likely busy with the skirmish, but you’d like to think he knew you were right and was embarrassed to admit it.

You busy yourself with more controls. A hologram of the redheaded general appears above your dashboard, his expression stone and unfathomable.

“General,” you begin. “Do we have any update on Admiral Holdo? Is she on that ship?”

The general twitches uneasily. “Not that we’re aware of…” he sounds disappointed, maybe due to the lack of information. A great general in war always keeps tabs on the enemy’s commanders. “Don’t make this a personal mission, ambassador. You’re there to steal the Yanni plans.”

You let out a sigh. “I would really prefer to know who’s commanding that fleet, general.”

In the hologram, a lieutenant (palpable by the badges on his greatcoat) whispers something into Hux’s ear. When he pulls away, the general looks pleased. “We believe it to be Admiral Ackbar.”

A roll of your eyes. An X-wing barely misses you, its wing clipping your own. “Second in command?”

The general says, “A pilot. Poe Dameron.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Really? A pilot? Second in command of an _entire_ fleet?”

Hux sighs, folding his glove-laden hands around one another. “As far as our understanding goes, General Organa seems to favor him.”

There’s a tremor in the Force at this, a chill tingling in your body and raising goosebumps along your arms. _Strange_ , you think.

You shrug it off. “Sloppy,” you mutter and turn off the hologram. The general fades from view with the flip of a switch. “Zi, we need you to take out that defibrillator before they jump into lightspeed. I don’t want that ship going anywhere.”

Zi sounds rugged. “Ambassador, the shields need to be lowered.”

 _Right_. “Junia is working on that. Just take out as many rebels as possible until then.”

The voice of the mysterious persona returns, the darkness of his tenor radiating against you once more. “I don’t see another ship,” he says gruffly and appearing _very_ distracted.

You watch as his ship spins across the battlefield, narrowly escaping all blaster fire. You weren’t going to kid yourself – the man was good. _Really good._

“She’s working on base,” you reply quickly.

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Lowering a shield from ground control?” he repeats.

You smirk a little. _Impressed?_ you want to say. You bite your tongue. “Let’s just say her skills are…unorthodox.”

The knight seems to guffaw sarcastically. “As long as it works.”

You’re about to come back with a snappy reply, maybe a threat to smash his precious cruiser yourself, but Zi sounds off.

“They’re preparing for a jump,” he informs.

Your eyes dart to _The Raddus_. Sure enough, the dazzling blue light of their engine fire prepares them for a generous amount of exertion.

“Shit,” you mutter. “Junia, are you almost done with the shields?”

A loud crackle pierces through the earpiece. You cringe. “Almost, ambassador.”

“Make it quick. We can only do so much up here. We’re like sitting porgs.” The gears of your fighter shift automatically into a higher position and allows for more speed. At this rate, you’re keeping up with Kylo Ren’s _Silencer_. For some reason, you hope that’d impress him.

Ridiculous.

A click from Junia all the way from Baleine. “Shields are lowered.”

You nod. “You hear that, Zi?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Kylo Ren allows for his ship to slow in order for you to pull up beside him. You glance at him and notice he’s not wearing his infamous mask. Though you’ve never seen him in person, you’ve heard stories about his theatrical uniform. You’d always imagined him with his mask…

“Where do we plan on landing, ambassador?”

He’s looking at you through his window and, before you can stare back, you peel yourself away from his gaze.

“My droid has scanned the ship. There’s a cargo hold on the right side but it’ll be a tight fit,” you inform him. _The Raddus_ has grown much larger into view, its cargo hold becoming less of a possibility and more of a reality.

And it would be a tight fit. Once you’re at a reasonable distance, you find that the cargo hold is barely accommodable for transports or cruisers. To say the very least, this makes you nervous. You grip the handles of the Bruler and try to untangle the rope knotting in your gut.

Kylo Ren only says this through the earpiece: “ _Blast it_.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR: nightsofren


	42. The Baleine Skrimish (PART II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Reader's saber is revealed.

The impact was punishing and the Bruler had reduced in size. The nose of the ship had crushed upon itself and in its wreckage was the mangled body of RT.

Smoke billows from the innards of the spacecraft. You’d managed to eject right before the Bruler had smashed itself into the walls of the Raddus’s cargo hold, rolling onto the hot pavement, and ducking your head from damage.

When you observe the scene, you find Kylo Ren unscathed and his ship still intact. Your heroism must have allowed him to land safely.

You groan, body aching and skin warm from the flames licking greedily nearby. A rather intense pain splinters between your shoulder blades, earning a low moan which tumbles from your dry lips. Kylo Ren is unharmed, the picture of perfect health. His mask was on now, which irritated you more than you care to admit. Why doesn’t matter – especially considering your view of him from the ground.

The commander turns to your ship – what’s left of it, anyway. “Your droid,” he notices. The vocoder makes the simple observation sound menacing.

Your heart falls into your stomach and, when you inhale, you think a rib has too. “I just made a crash landing and you’re more concerned about the droid?”

Kylo turns on his heel, cape billowing with him. “I assumed you’d be.”

The pulsating wound, whatever it may be, in your spine has not been forgotten. It stabs you in constant reminder. When you sit up in attempt to stand, you’re defeated. It causes you to become more angry than anything else.

You turn your attention to the shell of the droid which now burns brightly in the wreckage. For a moment you sense a flicker of sadness but it passes quickly. “He was a finicky little thing. But I had no bond with him – it was our first mission together.”

The strength to stand has been renewed but your joints crackle in objection. “You know this ship better than I do, commander. Lead the way.”

Kylo Ren begins for the opposite end of the cargo hold, his fists curled tightly against the leather of his gloves. His stature is massive, brooding – the kind of man you can only imagine in legends. Handsome was hardly the word for it, despite not having a clear view of his face, but his walk told you everything you need to know.

He carries himself slowly, the weight bearing on his shoulders. His chin raises high, a false sense of confidence easily recognizable, but it looks good enough. You imagine he is a tired man – a man depleted of the kind of energy required of him.

“The plans should be in the receiving room,” the mask grumbles. His back has turned to you. You find yourself glaring at the boots he wears – clunky, also leather. “I assume you have a weapon?”

Your hand instinctively reaches for the blaster in its holster; a DH-17. “You assume right.”

The saber hidden in your sleeve, however, suddenly becomes stressing. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to know yet.

You suppose…he’ll find out eventually.

You take out the saber and weigh it in the palm of your hand. The sleekness of its metallic handle, silver and glinting in the light, feels like the perfect fit (and it is). Your thumb brushes over the power button.

The man before you turns and finds the weapon gripped tightly in your hand. He points, mask directed at your fist. “Where did you get that?” He tenses.

But right then a cry rings out about the hangar. Rebels storm towards the two of you, blasters firing rapidly through the air and just above your head. They seem to have come out of nowhere – like phantoms. Strangely enough, the instinct to ignite your saber never registers. Instead, you reach for your DH-17 and aim for the rebels one by one. Headshots amp the body count. It was all going so well until…

A hot breeze. A blaster shot has nearly penetrated your skull. The emerald light buzzes just inches from between your eyes. It crackles in the air and spits plasma. Your breath falters, pupils dilated in fear. The adrenaline pumping through your veins has burst into action. The “fight or flight” reflexes have granted you the permission to roll your body underneath the shot and within a safe distance.

It springs free, bouncing against the far wall, and craters the steel of the ship. A whisper of smoke follows.

That could have been you.

Kylo is slicing through rebels like he could do it in his sleep. You’d been out of practice for months, exhausted, and trembling from the close call. Still, your accuracy never fails (despite quivering hands). Once the last rebel has fallen to the ground with body slightly twitching, you let out a gasp of relief.

“Where did you get that?” Kylo repeats, voice firm.

“It’s mine,” you tell him, walking towards the rebel who seems to still be alive (though just barely). “I constructed it.”

Kylo is silent, watching as you point your blaster to the victim’s head, and put him out of his misery. His grunting becomes silence, body now stiff.

“Lightsabers are a civilized weapon – far too advanced for someone who rarely joins the battlefield,” he tells you.

You raise a quizzical brow, deeply offended. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m the commander of a special forces squadron.”

“You’re an ambassador who occasionally attends missions,” he shoots cooly. ”Your title is simply decorum.”

A scowl twists your lips. “My following you is empathetic. I’m not apart of the First Order, just an ally, and I don’t have to take this.”

He glares in your direction, mask deadpan and camouflaging all sign of rebuttal. “A politician,” he says. His synthesizer shakes your bones. 

You adjust uncomfortably in your stance, unsure of what to do with your hands. It’s an intense situation – one you were never trained for. As an ambassador, you’ve been in nasty confrontations with the most powerful leaders in the galaxy, complex predicaments of which you had strategies…

But the way that machinery hides his visage…it makes it impossible for you to determine a poker face.

“Among other things,” you decide to say, voice clothed with a false sense of confidence.

He’s drilling you. Couldn’t he just take the information by force? Or try to anyway?

“You must be…if you have that saber.” He holds out a leather hand.

You glance between his outreached palm and the saber hidden in your sleeve with unease. “You’ve just insulted me. Why would I give this to you?” You shift your body away from his, despite the generous space between the two of you. It feels as though he’s drawing you in – filling the room.

“Let me see it,” he demands.

You clench the object so tightly that the silver handle fogs. “If you kill me…”

“Do you really think me that foolish?” he wonders. It sounds sincere.

With skepticism, you decide to give him the saber. He’s not going to go away and you didn’t feel like arguing anymore. Besides, you did have a job to do and standing here, arguing about your place in the Force, wasn’t going to end without appeasing him.

Kylo Ren handles the saber, twisting it and inspecting every inch. Maybe he expects to find it fake or wrong. Like he had any room to talk; his weapon wasn’t even assembled properly. The damn thing vibrates and crackles like an old droid.

But he looks impressed. “Double edged.” He turns to each end of the lightsaber.

“Yes.”

“That takes a special skill,” he muses. “And…”

His fingers find the notch in the center. The weapon suddenly becomes two.

“-is able to disassemble.”

You gulp, eyes never leaving the saber. His fondling of your weapon drives you near the edge. It was…

…tempting.

You push away whatever it is that you’re beginning to feel. “It’s a rare model.”

Kylo nods and clicks the saber back into place. It’s a staff again. “Darth Maul had one very similar, as I recall. Though his wasn’t as complex.”

“He did.”

The next part causes you to jump out of your skin. Kylo turns on the saber and the circumference surrounding the two of you glows…

“White,” he hums. “Interesting.”

He doesn’t wave it around like others would. He simply twists it with his wrist, staring down at it with absolute concentration – or at least that’s what the apparatus on his mask shows (or doesn’t).

You speak after what feels like ages – like time has been suspended between the two of you. “Yours is red,” you point out.

The saber lets out a sharp hiss before turning off. “That’s because I’m a Sith,” he says firmly. He steps forward and closes the space between you. His gravity is observable – you feel like you’re being suffocated each time he steps near. 

You retrieve your weapon once he hands it to you. “The Sith are extinct.”

The mask before you casts a gaze to the side. “I’m working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Sorry I've been absent. I'm always on Tumblr though (Nightsofren)! 
> 
> Thank you for the love and support. It fills my heart with love! 
> 
> This chapter was intended to be longer but beggars can't be choosers. I can't keep putting it off anymore! Anyway, I have the next chapter plotted in my head. We've weened into TLJ, by the way! So keep that in mind! ;)
> 
> xoxoxo


	43. The Death of Kind King Calvin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader's mother's history is revealed.

After all talk of the coronation had been discussed, and the majority of the finger sandwiches eaten, both you and the queen retired to the countryside of Yanni.

The two of you spoke about the wildflowers (how vivid they were), how winter was beginning its cycle (how very cold it was), and the various native wildlife (“ _Such beasts_!” she had proclaimed.). It was after she had commented on the billowing clouds that you decided to ask her. After all, she must have known something.

Something about her.

You prepare yourself. It had been years since you last spoke so openly about her. And it still stung right into your chest - like she was still striking you even in death. An unbearable image flashes before your eyes and you shudder it away like a chill in the air.

“Do you know the story of my mother?” You fold your hands around each other and cross them at your stomach. It still feels empty months later – like something was missing from you.

Sabyr is taken aback by the question, stopping in the middle of the field. The feathered stalks of bustle flowers tickle her bare wrists as the wind leans in her direction. “Of course. I was at her execution.”

Only government officials and their families were. Important people. Wealthy people. The ‘commoners’ didn’t have the privilege to watch her die. So it didn’t surprise you to hear that she had been there; all the same, it still made you jolt.

“Do you happen to know why the saber she was killed with was _green_?” you challenge, stepping your feet firmly into the ground before her.

She shrugs a little. “I assume it had something to do with her use of the Force…”

“Then you don’t know,” you tell her.

It’ll be a long story. You prepare yourself for a dark trip back to base. The suns were beginning to fall into the sky. A mirage of pinks and yellows had begun painting the heavens like acrylics against canvas. You drop yourself onto a rock nearby and pat the space beside you. While you didn’t like Sabyr, you suppose she should know the truth about your mother. Everyone should.

And it’s not like Kylo knew. So who would you talk to about it? Shouldn’t such traumas be discussed – not forgotten? Not stirred in the back of your brain like gravy or molding like all terrible things do?

You stare at your palms which rest in your lap. Your skin looks older than what it did when it happened. “My mother was a cold woman. A terrible parent. Orion is responsible for my upbringing…” you take a deep breath, allowing yourself some vulnerability. It was the only time you would.

Then again, it would also give you an advantage.

“When I was five years old I began to train. Too late. Not early enough. But then again, I didn’t have the kind of childhood that others had.” A whisper of wind blows stray locks of hair from underneath your cloak. “She was tactless…filled with a void I couldn’t understand yet. It wasn’t until I was older did I discover her true intention of marrying my father.”

You turn to see Sabyr’s reaction. She seems intrigued, though concerned. It must be strange hearing the truth of history for the first time. That’s what people do, right? Alter history to make it more appealing…more empathetic? Or maybe…

“She never loved him,” you begin again. “And she never meant to have me because of it. I was a ploy – a strategy. She needed Baleine under her control. Despite being cruel she was…smart…” you raise your brows and scoff with lackluster. “She needed to keep my father happy so he wouldn’t leave her and my father wanted a child. She used this to her advantage…”

You inhale deeply through your nose. It burns.

“-because my mother was a spy for the Resistance.”

Sabyr shifts uncomfortably in her seat, gulping audibly. “And so?”

_Strange._

A nod of your head. This forces you to continue. “She’d always been sensitive to the Force -  even without formal training. After all, the Jedi were believed to have been extinct after the fall of the Death Star. But she’d proved valuable to the political climate instead. It was how she met Admiral Holdo and they built a relationship through private correspondence.”

You pause. Just for a moment. Just to take in the present before you. It was hard to distinguish yourself from then and now when talking about her and the tragic events to follow.  Your fists clench in your lap and you watch as the tendons rub against the tautness of your skin.

“When her coup failed, she realized that her mission had too. Of course, no one knew that she had orchestrated it and I’d say like a well-oiled machine but…” You turn to Sabyr who agrees by the shake of her head. The coup was a day that everyone in Baleine will never forget. A day of darkness. “But the heads of the state didn’t want the people knowing the truth. They didn’t want to admit that she could have constructed such damage.”

Disgusting.

“So they told a lie. They told the commonwealth that my mother killed their king over a string of affairs. They tainted his name because they were cowards and their failure could never be exposed.”

There’s a silence between the two of you that seems to last for minutes. After all, her father was one of the men who made the decision. You didn’t dare breathe and the tension never subsided.

“How stupid people must be…” you sneer with a tilt of your head. “-to believe that a murder on such grounds would just happen to occur during a coup. She killed him because she failed the Resistance.”

You stop, bite the inside of you lip, and turn to her – eyes as clear as the night sky threatening to dangle above your heads. “But the people aren’t stupid. Your father is.”

Sabyr freezes completely and she turns as white as her hair. All the blood from her rosy cheeks has evaporated like water. “Excuse me?”

Your body threatens her space, torso angling towards her. “One day they’ll find out that their government lied to them,” you tell her with cutting edge. “They’ll find out soon enough.”

The queen’s eyes narrow until they’re slits, ghostly expression gone, and now replaced with an erosive crossness. “Why are you telling me this?”

A smirk forms against your lips.

_Victory._

“Because I know about Tyth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIDE NOTE: In this story, Luke was believed to have died on the Death Star with his father. Makes for a more interesting timeline, I think. 
> 
> Again, sorry I've been absent. It took a lot for me to write this. It's not my best work but it's something. 
> 
> Follow my Tumblr!
> 
> * Nightsofren *


	44. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: The truth.

Sabyr rises from her seat as though she’s just been electrocuted, her hand wrenching away from the rock with a jolt. Before you, she’s in predatory stance, her arm enveloping in her cape – she’s reaching for a weapon. Or, considering it, anyway.

It’s all happened so quickly but while explaining your mother’s history it had dawned on you. All the pieces were there – how had you not seen it before?

You feel guilty. You’d been so focused on yourself – on your personal life – that you’d been neglecting your job. But how had the Force not warned you of her?

She reminds you of your mother for a reason. It hadn’t been a coincidence that Tyth mysteriously disappeared the day of the skirmish on base. And while you knew the resistance had everything to do with it, it wasn’t clear what their exact intentions were. After all, they hadn’t stolen any information – not even _attempted_ to. So what was it that they were after?

No.

It couldn’t possibly be you. Baleine is First Order territory – they’re dedicated to you. There was no way they’d turn to the resistance – not after your father’s legacy.

But your story from before hangs in the air and suddenly…it doesn’t feel right.

Something feels as though it’s been lodged in your throat – like the revelation shoved itself within your windpipe in attempt to maim you.

“They were for her…” you gasp. “They were for her all along.”

Sabyr raises her chin in defiance. “How could you be so stupid?” she sneers. “Has Kylo Ren completely incapacitated you of all logic?”

This ignites a fire in your guts, burning your insides in a cocktail of aggression and woe; pure, uncut, dread stops your heart altogether. You’re left with heavy lungs and a blurry skyline of Yabbai’s meadow. Thoughts crumble around you like collapsing buildings – each one more ridiculous than the next but all deserving of consideration. Nothing surprised you anymore. There was only one explanation of her visit, however, and soon it’d show its sour face.

She’s here to finish the job.

You wouldn’t let her. Your life was not your own. There were three souls, honest and precious beings, waiting for you back home – lifeforms you shared with half of you. You picture their faces; their little hands, their sunbeam eyes – and you see everything in them. Kylo. Your father. Baleine. The sibling they never met and the emptiness in your belly you felt because of it. The past. The present. What was to come. The Force – how powerful it dwells from them, how it ignites all of the atmosphere until there was nothing but armistice.

Survival is absolute.

The barrel of your DH-17 leers directly at the center of her forehead but she seems unphased by your trigger finger brushing against its tframe. She’s already prepared her Glie-44 which makes just as swiftly an appearance as your pistol.

The two of you, held at gunpoint, in a field of wildflowers.

How poetic.

But then there’s a hum in your ears. It currents to the parietal lobe of your brain and congeals your blood. Your center stills. The field of wildflowers fades from perception, its yellow saturation contrasting with the light of the suns, until there’s nothing but blackness.

Before you appears Qui-Gon.

And then Kylo.

Their expressions mirror one another, four glowing eyes maintaining yours. There is nothing but them; not Sabyr, not the field, not the suns, not the sky. Just them.

It should feel empty and remote, but it doesn’t – not in the slightest. You feel warmth – _hope_. Your lungs feel full again. Your head clears. All survival instincts have been refreshed as though their presence was a glass of water and your body had been hydrated. They were the antidote.

The two of them whisper to you just one word:

“ _Shoot_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired but I did it...lol...
> 
> What will happen next? Who shoots first??????????? 
> 
> I'M SO TIRED. SO SO SO TIRED.


	45. Autotomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains childbirth, violence, and torture. Mentions of blood. 
> 
> Reader has...basically, she's lost it.

Sabyr’s body trails behind you, her _precious velvet jumpsuit_ soiling by the minute. She wasn’t dead (unfortunately) but she was knocked out cold. She hadn’t even flinched when you’d “accidently” cracked her skull against a bed of river rocks on the way back to base. What had been pearled hair was now damp with mud and was beginning to cake her locks into a ratted mess.

If this had been on any other grounds, you’d be smirking wickedly. But instead, you were scowling, and it emits nuclear rage throughout the whole of Yanni.

When you reach the entrance, there are two shadow troopers standing guard. It was nighttime now; the odyssey back had proven wearisome and therefore laborious.  They greet you by tilting their heads. Moonlight reflects off the shine of their helmets and they mumble, “ambassador…” in a manner which proved your glowering expression had worked. And while their masks covered their visage, it was obvious they were taken aback by the body dragging limply behind you.

Upon entering the hangar, you find General Hux is in perfect view - even between rows of looming TIE fighters his red hair cannot be undistinguished. He nods to a trooper and rests a hand on a durasteel shipment – he looks pleased enough. You’d soon ruin it.

Those in the bay glance warily at your ominous figure but avert their eyes as soon as they do. While it’s not uncommon to see such violence in the First Order, there’s also a queen trailing blood behind you – the very same one they’d saluted to just three hours before. A silence shadows the hangar as you grow closer to the general. Somehow, he has not noticed.

But when he does, his jaw slacks.

With a final grunt from your lungs, Sabyr lands at his feet - her gammy legs flopping against the floor with a raucous _thud_. Hux is…speechless. The little crimson he had in his cheeks has gone completely, probably pooled somewhere in his toes. He tries to speak – to make sense of it – but he can’t.

You take a deep breath and brush your hands against your dress – the damn ordeal had ruined it completely; it was now shredded at its bottom.

 _Bitch_ , you think.

“I want her in interrogation in five minutes,” is all you say to him. You abandon her body, which is now bleeding onto the general’s shoes, and head towards your quarters. Your fists curl at your sides, teeth and jaw clenching so tightly upon your skull that it aches.

“ _Have you lost your mind?!_ ” he shouts from across the hangar.

Absolutely.

 

* * *

 

 

_Seven months earlier_

 

On the day of which they were born, there was thunder.

It is an event whenever it rains in Baleine. Aside from the occasional shower that waters the crops, the natives don’t have much use for such weather. The planet’s foliage is self-sustaining thanks to its odd process of photosynthesis and the mist that rolls over the hills each morning. Baleine was just fine without thunderstorms because there was simply no reason for them – the people thrived without fear of tsunamis.

But on that day…the thunder was _almighty._

Rain had flooded the inside of your suite, creating hazardous puddles for the handmaidens. Orx had slipped and fell, bruising her tailbone and causing a welt to rise beneath her delicate skin. Still, she soldiered on, fetching cool washcloths and ice (though if she hadn’t, you’re sure Orion would have beaten her to a pulp).

Originally, they were supposed to be born via surgical procedure. But because of the sacredness of their lives, Snoke demanded that they be delivered naturally.

You’d fought Kylo on it and begged him to change the mind of the Supreme Leader. The chances of a safe, vaginal birth with triplets was risky considering the complications you’d experienced…before. Your medic had advised you to reconsider and even offered to plead with Snoke herself – but you denied her offer and her suggestion.

And when the moment came, you really wish you hadn’t.

“Her contractions aren’t even a minute apart!” yells Orion to the maidens. She’s settled herself between your legs, glove-laden hands prodding at your insides, and directing orders like a general in war.

You’d been propped up on your childhood bed, clutching its sheets, and screaming into the universe for hours now. But Orion seemed unfazed by such pain and continued on with her work. Her yellow eyes concentrated on the space between your legs as though she were inspecting a machine.

The Pantoran woman motions for Nyx who had been fanning and coo’ing you in attempt of comfort – it hadn’t worked. Time hasn’t been this blurry since you’d gotten drunk at that cantina however many years ago.

The two of them gather with one another, murmuring and nodding in agreement.

“She’s fully effaced…” Orion grabs your leg and squeezes as though to gain your attention. And while groggily, you manage to meet her gaze. “It’s time.”

You groan, blurry eyes rolling into the back of your skull, before Mathilde mumbles into Orion’s ear: “Shouldn’t we wait for the commander?”

This earns a scowl from you and your doula. Nyx pinches Mathilde on the elbow – she shrieks.

Aching at a _systematic ten_ , you cry out, “ _Who gives a shit?! Get them out of me_!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Present day_

 

She awakens with a startle, her head banging itself against the durasteel of the chair. Her pretty eyes…they wander and take in the scene before her. You imagine she must have been adjusting to the white of the fluorescent lights above. After all, her pupils have shrunk to twice their size.

The person standing before her – it was you, staring at her with an impish scowl – sardonic, tormenting… cracked. You stand before her, face tilting to inspect her battered body with a twisted glee, and then finally laugh under your breath.

“Hello again.”

Sabyr seems to congeal. There is no sign of life in her expression aside from her slack jaw, lips barely quivering apart from one another.

You utter, “I imagine you’re confused.”

There’s a flutter of movement in her eyes; her fists clench against the restraints.

“Well…” you begin casually. “Let me explain. You see, I shot first. You hardly grazed me.” Your throat tightens, as it takes every inch of muscle to not shred her to pieces in that very moment. “You, on the other hand, were not so lucky.”

Sabyr stares down at the wound in her side, badly stitched by thread. It was almost impossible finding the equipment necessary, as most medics don’t carry such ancient tools. There were advanced bandages now; bacta tanks, mechanical limbs and organs…to sew her up was more humiliating than anything else – a show of power. Blood barely spills from between the intentional slap-stick of a job. She whimpers, whether it be in pain or fury, and casts a looming frown.

“I barely missed your artery, on-purpose, of course. I need you alive. So now…we’re going to play a game.” You flick your hand to motion the shadows in the corner of the room hither. Three medics, clad in First Order uniform, gather around Sabyr with tools you couldn’t even begin to name in hand.

Just inches from her face, with hot breath fanning against her pallid cheeks, you scowl. “In this room is the greatest medical team in the First Order.” You wave a hand around you, obviously for dramatics, but at this point you were losing your mind entirely. “You’ll answer my questions to my satisfaction or they’ll take a stitch out inch…by…inch.” You tap her on the nose. “Just enough to keep that cruel heart beating.”

It’s Sabyr’s jaw that clenches now. She manages a strangled noise in the back of her throat, passable for an answer. You watch in delight as her fingers curl into her palm so forcibly that the winter shade of her skin turns red with blood.

“Ready now?” you ask with twisted, insane, and chaotic delight. “Don’t mess up!”

_Good. Old. Fashioned. Torture._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autotomy // Noun // "The casting off of a part of the body by an animal under threat."


	46. The Baleine Skirmish (PART III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Force bond.

_**TWO YEARS BEFORE** _

 

* * *

 

From its cargo hold to its receiving room, the _Raddus_ was tangled with Resistance fighters. Not just officers – heavys, snipers, _pilots_ – and each one of them were armed. The _Raddus_ was the heart of the Resistance’s navy and this mission was beginning to feel impossible.

It takes a lot to stun you. You’ve seen it all on both battlefields. As an ambassador, the political terrain (while frightfully corrupt) was a cake-walk. As a special forces commander, the objectives you’ve suffered through were assignments you might have been able to do in your sleep. But the _Raddus_ was intimidating and brooding – a worthy adversary. Its halls were etched with decades of history and that, in itself, was startling.

It was also a kriffing _maze_.

Both you and Kylo had managed to stay concealed in the shadows. Maybe it was years of training or maybe it was just dumb luck. Either way, you must have proved yourself worthy in his eyes because he hadn’t left you stranded yet, and he very well could have when you had passed the trash compactor.

There was one moment when your cover was almost blown but it hadn’t been _you_ who failed to peer carefully around the corner – it was _Kylo_. You grabbed his bicep in the nick of time and dragged him to safety. The officer was completely oblivious, even with Kylo’s dramatic apparatus, probably assumed it was a trick of the light, and ignored his suspicion.

Once the officer had left his post (it took a good fifteen minutes for him to decide there was nothing worth guarding) you allowed yourself to exhale. “Will you be more careful?” you sneered.

The knight glanced down at you through his visor but didn’t say a word.

The two of you continued like that for a while – quiet and reserved within yourselves – before a group of soldiers rounded the corner. They donned blasters you recognized were fatal, to say the very least, and patches you knew meant they were skilled in using them. This time it was Kylo who grabbed you, threw you into a nearby closet, and clasped a hand around your mouth. The taste of leather against your lips felt odd. You gulped.

It was a janitorial closet. You knew this because of the utility droid that beeped awake underneath your legs (which tangled uncomfortably with the man no more than a few inches before you). The droid was bigger than those that occupied Baleine’s ships and you struggled to comprehend the size, cringing at its echo, and waiting for the group outside to notice. They don’t.

“Squadron three hasn’t returned to their post. We should check it out…” someone muttered. A male. Human.

“Where were they sent?”

“Cargo hold. There was a serious noise - sounded like a ship wreck.”

“Shit,” a woman grumbled. “Everyone got their blasters ready?”

“Aye,” they agreed in unison.

“Let’s go then.”

The droid whirled softly before it clicks in alarm, red lights blinking itself awake. You threw your head back in exasperation and it landed with a soft thud against a durasteel plate.

_Stay still._

The thought wasn’t yours. It was _Kylo’s._

You couldn’t help but gasp a little. _How are you…?_

“What was that?” someone asked in alarm. A blaster cocked.

There’s silence behind the door before a woman laughed. “Just the janitorial droid. Probably beeping because of its charge.”

There’s a hum of agreement. “Alright. Let’s move. I want to get to break before the admiral assigns us to something else.”

Their boots marched across the floor, indicating they removed themselves from sight. Kylo opened the blast doors and the two of you stumbled upon one another, clattering to the ground.

While his mask camouflaged his expression, you knew he wasn’t happy you’d just knocked him to the floor. Sensing a mistake, you muttered a quick apology.

“Only a block more.” He stood and straightened his cowl. He didn’t help you up.

You glowered at him, still acutely aware of the unspoken exchange back in the closet. Should you have ignored it? Or...

“I know,” he grumbled aloud, turning his back to you.

You want to ask what the _kriff_ that was. But never mind; you knew _exactly_ what it was – it was just too unviable to say out loud. _Force bond_.  

You’d first heard of the legend from your mother who had thrown a book of ancient texts your way to study. A Force bond was extremely rare, something only mates of the soul shared. Rumor has it that Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa – the twins – shared it. But they were the only case you’d known, nor anyone else for that matter.

The Force so rarely honored two people.

You tried to push the idea that maybe Kylo Ren was the man your mother had prophesized out of your mind.

_A man clothed in black will bear your seed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and, honestly, the most fun I've had writing in awhile.


End file.
